


Darker than Midnite

by blackgrl71



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Constantine (2005), Death Proof (2007), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-22
Updated: 2011-12-17
Packaged: 2017-10-21 15:44:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 37
Words: 50,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/226850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackgrl71/pseuds/blackgrl71
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Throw in  a mix of an impressive group of powerful magical women, the Slayers, add the Wizarding War, and suddenly things become very interesting in both worlds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *** The delightful characters of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling and J.K. Rowling only. Joss Whedon is the sole owner of many of the characters mentioned in this story, and the movie Constantine is the idea of DC/Vertigo comic book writers Garth Ennis and Jamie Delano. I could only dream of owning such amazing characters and creative worlds. And, Quentin Taratino was the creative genius behind Death Proof and unfortunately, I don’t have any connection to the fine women of DeathProof.
> 
> Please note that some events the events, people, and places within the Harry Potter story have been changed, deleted, or simply moved to suit trying to fit Also look out for spoilers.
> 
> *I’d like to thank my amazing fellow writers: bearblue, gypsydruid, and melanacious—best “pinch hitters,” ever!
> 
> ** Any and all mistakes are my own. Please forgive me in advance…lol
> 
> *Like all writers, I derive creative-sustenance from feedback, so please be so kind as to drop an occasional word or two. It’d be appreciated.
> 
> ************************************************************************************

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking what is this hot, sexy, woman doing in this close-to-abandoned, shit-hole of a town called Sunnydale? Yeah, yeah, I should be dead, but in the land of mysticism and magic and the gods, anything can happen. And when you have the pedigree she has, well then, all bets are **_really_** off. You see, her demise should have come on some dark, country, Texas back-road, high on some beautiful pot and drunk on both lust for her fine-ass BFF, Arlene, and potent drinks at their favorite local haunt. But instead she woke up with none other than fucking Uncle Constantine staring down at her while her Mom cried nearby.

You see, in her case, her being… alive, has everything to do with her family tree, than Stuntman Mike smashing her limbs and internal organs, with a side of “shearing off one of her beautiful legs. She remembered the screaming, the sudden unimaginable pain, followed by bright lights blinding them as the black, death-trap came tearing at them, head-on. He killed all of her friends instantly and she should have been dead as well. But her friends didn’t have a powerful sorcerer who straddled two celestial worlds - good and evil, as their Dad. And they didn’t have an equally powerful Mother who was both a gifted Seer, and who’d been touched by both a powerful demon, and a powerful angel; in addition to possessing abilities to commune with the dead. All of this combined, meant one kick-ass off-spring.

Albeit, a daughter that didn’t know about her heritage until she awoke with all of her limbs intact, a massive headache, and her mother crying hysterically as Uncle Constantine attempted to calm her. The best thing that came out of the whole nightmare (other than being alive and whole), was that it allowed her to be at Stuntman Mike’s imminent demise, as another group of women: Zoe, Abernathy, and Kim were in the midst of droppin’ a can of whoop-ass on him. Luckily after some quick explaining and a nasty little spell she learned from her family, she stooped down to the bloodied and battered, and pathetically begging-for-his-life, serial killer, and shoved a ball of energy into his mouth.

As she stood back and watched him begin to scream in agony, she managed to send him off with a clue about his immediate future. “I just want you to know that the folks down there,” she motioned with her head to the ground, “have the ‘presidential suite’ waiting for you. And I can promise you that as a favor on behalf of my fine-ass? They’re cookin’ up something nice and medieval for you. You sonofabitch!” And with that she punched him in his screaming mouth, silencing him forever. 

***

Her name was Sydney Poitier, or she thought her name was Sydney Poitier, but everyone called her Jungle Julia on account of her popular local radio show. It turns out that the normal-people parents she grew up with weren’t her biological parents. Her real parents were none other than the famous (or infamous as some suggest) Papa Midnite and Angela Dodson, with John Constantine as her Uncle. Now her name was officially Julia Midnite Dodson. When she was _Reborn_ , she’d awakened all the latent magic locked in her veins and her connection to the ‘worlds’ beyond. When her mother wasn’t being scared for her baby-girl, she was being a tough-ass Mama-Bear, who also happened to be homicide detective. Needless to say, when she learned about what happened to her; she went running to her Dad.  The story goes he made a deal and “bingo” she was re-born and her Father disappeared.  She’d never met her Father except as a figment of her dreams. To learn that he was **_real_** and gave if not only his life, he gave _something_ powerful so that she could live, was daunting.

John Constantine, after lots of heated discussion with her Mom, took it upon himself to train her. He insisted that to leave Julia untrained, left her vulnerable to all the things that “go bump in the night,” and if it didn’t get her killed, it could possibly drive her mad. Julia was relieved because seeing ghosts, noticing the completely dark eyes of demons nodding at her in greeting whenever she was in public, or the equally creepy tri-colored irises of angels, and then add all the other… creatures she never knew existed – including vamps, who looked at her like she was a juicy steak, was more than disconcerting. What made it even worse was the strong compulsion to hurt some of these… beings; sometimes it was a vamp, other times it was an angel, like Gabriel.

It was then that she not only  inherited her father’s sorcery, but that she was also became a Balance Energy. And right now she was headed to a place that was HUGELY influencing the balance, tipping the scales towards all kinds of badness. Luckily she wasn’t alone. She had a crew – the women she met kickin’ Stuntman Mike’s ass! For some reason, following the completion of their film, they decided to follow her. Zoe claimed that hanging with her was more excitement than any stunt she’d ever pulled. Kim claimed she tagged along because a) her now ex-boyfriend back in Los Angeles really wasn’t good for her and b) someone needed to keep their asses out of trouble.  Abernathy simply loved a great adventure. The romanticism soon died down after they’d come across a nest of vamps, teeing off on a group of kids they were “softening up” for a meal.

After that they began to appreciate how serious this business was and the ‘realness’ of Julia’s life. It didn’t hurt that occasionally after a hard fight, they could be found curled up naked around each other like a pile of kittens. It was on one of these occasions, in a motel on the outskirts of Galveston, Texas, that she heard a loud scratching sound coming from the bathroom. Untangling herself from bed-mates, while grabbing her favorite hunting knife, she crept towards the bathroom, the knife at the ready, and naked. Once she ascertained that there was nothing unusual or dangerous in the bathroom, she noticed a large… falcon at the window.

Surprised she watched as it hopped down off the ledge, flew a little distance towards her, until it stopped a couple feet in front of her. It hovered as if waiting for her to do something and that’s when she noticed some rolled up paper on its leg. It let out a little noise as it flew to the sink next to her, startling her a little, and lifted its leg towards her. Julia paused and then cautiously reached for the piece of paper. Once she freed it, the bird seemed to settle itself, as if waiting.

“Oookkk. This isn’t weird at all…,” she could only shake her head at this strangeness. Unrolling the paper, she snuck another glance at the bird only to see it cleaning itself.

_Julia Midnite-Dodson_

_Located in the Bathroom of Room 205_

_Motel Mercury Rising_

_Gallup, New Mexico, United States of America_

 

_Miss Julia Midnite-Dodson,_

__The Wizarding World calls upon your assistance._ _

_We have been beset by a great danger to not only the Wizarding World, but the World beyond it._

_We ask that you seek further assistance from the Slayer, Buffy Summers and her companions located in Sunnydale, CA._

_If you wish to learn more please meet with our associate from the Order of the Phoenix_ _in Sunnydale, the 3 rd of this month. _

_I_ _thank you for your consideration and we shall be in touch._

_Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_P.S. If you could be as kind as to give a bit of food for Jacob, it would be appreciated._

“Girl, what the hell is that?!” Kim was busy pointing at the falcon perched on the counter.

Julia simply handed her the note and then **yelped** when the bird followed her and landed on her shoulder. “What the fuck?!”

Remembering the note said something about food and having no clue as to what falcons ate, she proceeded to break off a piece of day-old pizza crust, and then gingerly held it up the bird’s beak. The bird gave a squeak, dipping its head, delicately snatched it away from her fingers. With food in its beak, it few back to the bathroom, and out the window. Julia tilted her head, leaned against the worn-looking dresser, crossing her arms in front of her breasts, and waited for Kim to finish reading the note. Plus she was admiring the play of muscles bunching along her smooth, brown thighs and abdomen.

Without looking up, Kim could feel Jule’s eyes on her. “I can **feel** you staring at me.” She lifted her coffee-colored eyes to her gorgeous lover and friend. “Well, this note sounds like all kinds a crazy. I mean, come on! Wizarding?! That sounds like a really cheesy Indie-band.”

Kim watched with renewed awareness as Julia prowled towards her; her movements were always so smoothly languid, yet somehow effortless, combined to exhibit a sort of a sexy feral-ness . Probably because everyone was so busy staring at her that it’d be too late when you realized she was directly in front of you. Vampires always did it; they first said something creepy while leering at her, only to realize a second too late that they were dust. It was a beautiful thing to watch Julia get medieval. She gave no quarter, muscles that moved in inhumanly ways, on top of her power magic and other…gifts, made Julia one bad-ass sistah.

The bond between them was extra cool; who’d have thought that Kim, Abernathy, and Zoe, would’ve given up promising stunt careers (and make-up artistry as in Abernathy’s case), to tag along with Julia, fighting evil. Kim always thought evil was some of those tacky drag queens she used to see on Hollywood Boulevard, or one of those dealers in Compton who was busy trying channel some of those shady characters in Training Day. Evil still was an egomaniacal director who just loved his _casting couch_. One guy tried that shit on her and Kim rearranged his balls. Needless to say she never worked for a certain studio again.

Then there was the Marking; a ceremonial thing that signified that they (her, Abernathy, and Zoe) were Julia’s. They all now sported brands on the inside of their palms. And yes, it hurt like a sonofabitch when they got it. A hydra (multi-headed dragon) with a decorative spear through it, within a circle was branded on all their palms except Julia. This symbol was a large tattoo on Jule’s back. Apparently it signified her lineage.  But this tattoo was more than just a tattoo – sometimes the symbol became alive if Julia willed it. The Hydra – whom they named Ari, named after her deceased BFF Arlene, could be found standing close to the size of a Wooly Mammoth, and Julia was a surgeon with the spear, which she wielded with expertise. The tip of it was coated in some kind of red substance. Julia would never reveal what that was. Abernathy believed it was something potent and gave the spear power.

Their white Kiwi friend thought it was a great adventure. In fact, you’d find an almost doggy-grin splitting her face when they were doing one of their hit n’ runs. She was equally energetic in bed. Weirdly, as much as Zoe enjoyed the adrenalin rush of a hunt, she somehow balanced it with the acknowledgement of how serious their mission was. Zoe didn’t go out into the field without praying to her portable altar. She believed in the gods—in her travels, Zoe was a believer in a multitude of spiritualities, with Mother Earth as her main focus. She believed through Julia, she’d been Chosen to help protect the Earth and her Sisters (which included Kim and Abernathy), along with their leader, Julia.  

 


	2. Chapter 2

Buffy stood looking out on her backyard- the only place where she could get some silence for the moment. She could feel the tension slowly draining from her steely muscles, her hands unclenched, and her fingers had finally stopped digging into her callused palms. When she heard the back-door open and slam shut, indicating that someone(s) were interrupting her precious moment of solitude, she could only close her eyes in weary resignation. 

“Buffy?” The red-head cautiously approached her best-friend with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, as if warding off invisible blows. But really, Willow was writhing internally at what happened last night: they’d essentially thrown Buffy out of the house. When the ‘dust had cleared’ Willow couldn’t believe the mob-mentality that had taken them over, lashing out at Buffy’s experience, perhaps weakening that essential confidence needed in their leader.

Needless to say, Willow wasn’t surprised when Buffy didn’t acknowledge her. But Willow **needed** to… apologize, to convey how much she believed in the Slayer, that she’d always ‘have her back,’ and that she needed, no **they** needed her.

“Buffy… I-I..” the red-head tucked a strand of russet hair behind her ear in a nervous gesture before determination washed over her features, the infamous Resolve-Face making an appearance. “I’m sorry Buff. I was wrong… we all were. But especially me. I…I’m supposed to be there for you. Unconditionally. And for a few moments last night… I wasn’t.” Willow closed her eyes to stem the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks.

“I could give you a dozen different reasons why, but in the end it doesn’t matter. I… fudged up. So…,” she could feel her throat growing thick with the need to let loose the sobs wanting to tear out of her chest. “I can promise you three things: 1) We may debate strategies in the future, but in the end I’ll **always** have your back, 2) I’ll never give up on you, and 3) I’ll always love you… just not like sexy-times love.” When Buffy still hadn’t turned around, Willow figured it was her cue to leave and hope that she’ll be forgiven.

“There’s food fixed, I stowed a plate for you away from the heathens, so… take your time.” And with that Willow turned to head back into the noisy house, before a whispered entreaty behind her.

“Will, wait.”  The red-head paused with her hand on the door-knob, hope piercing through her veins like a shot of potent whiskey. Slowly she turned around only to discover that Buffy had moved and was now standing closer, her eyes red-shot with dark circles underneath, indicating her exhaustion. She let out an eek when the Slayer suddenly gripped her upper-arms.

“Don’t ever do that to me again! If..if you knew how much that almost broke me…,” tears spilled down both women’s cheeks, “if you knew… you’re supposed to be my best friend!”

“I know, I know. **Nothing** I could say can ever…,” she hung her head down, her silky red-hair a curtain around her face, as she tried to grab a hold of her wildly exploding emotions. “I know… I haven’t done right by you, Buffy…” she lifted her head, her Resolve-Face back on, “whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it, whatever I can do to… make it up to you, I’ll do it.

However Buffy’s response was interrupted by mocking laughter and clapping, startling both women, breaking Willow’s heart a little as she saw a version of ‘Tara,’ The First. “Isn’t this sweet! Your friends betray you – which I have to say was sooo easy to manipulate, and then witchy-poo here promises to make it up to you.” It mockingly mimicked a heartfelt clasp to Its chest, wildly batting Its eyelashes. “You just can’t find good help these days.”

Rage began coursing through Willow’s veins as The First not only used Tara’s image, but used the tender, ‘open wound’ of Buffy and her relationship problems for Its amusement. But they knew that The First looked and exploited any vulnerability, hoping to fracture or tear them apart. She could feel the Dark calling to her, wanting to let loose on the thing in front of her, Buffy squeezed a supportive hand on her shoulder, before taking a stance next to her.

“Don’t you have a… Priest to clean up?” Buffy enjoyed the look of rage darkening Its features. “I’m not sure if you know, but I decided to make a ‘withdrawal’ last night and well Big Mouth was in my way, so I decided tokill two birds with one blade, and ‘split’ the difference,” which was in reference to Buffy not only successfully stealing the Scythe, but also cleaving the Priest in two, finally killing him.

The look of pure hatred on Its face as it impotently attempted to return the verbal volley, was cheering up Buffy considerably. “Enjoy it while you can because the clock is ticking Slayer and I’ll be the one to stand over your bleeding body when I claim my victory.” And with that It disappeared.

“Well that was fun,” It was then Buffy realized that Willow hadn’t said a word. Turning the red-head’s trembling body to her, the blond was thankful that she’d been here. It was clear that all of their emotions were at the breaking point and for Willow that was an uber-dangerous situation.

“Will…, Willow, look at me!” When the trembling witch finally focused her green-eyes that were blinking black one moment before returning to their normal color, Buffy did the only thing she could. Clasping her shoulders, the blonde brought Willow’s body into a full-body hug.

“It’s gonna be ok, Will. I got ya.” Over and over, Buffy whispered entreaties, she felt Willow desperately clutch her arms around her waist, holding tight as sobs started to wrack her body.

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so, sorry. You were all by yourself last night… what if you’d been hurt? You have to believe me, I’m-,” she was cut off by Buffy.

“I forgive you Willow. We’re really just kids trying to muck our way through towards saving the world… we’ll figure it out.”  They had to or they’d all be dead.

At that point an odd sound, like a **_hoot_** sounded behind them, immediately putting them on the defensive as they turned towards the sound. What met them caused them to frown in bewilderment. An owl, a beautiful owl sat perched on the limb of a tree nearby, and had what looked like a rolled up piece of paper tied to its leg. 

Sniffing, Willow shared a look with Buffy before moving closer to the bird. “Who are you?” It hooted at the sound of her voice, motioning its head down at the parchment on its leg. “Ummm, Buffy? I think it wants us to take that piece of paper.”

“Will, are you sure? This is Sunnyhell, it could be of the bad…” but she grew silent when the bird calmly allowed Willow to cautiously remove the piece of paper.

Sneaking suspicious glances in the bird’s direction Willow proceeded to unroll the piece of paper while Buffy looked over her shoulder. What they read was somewhat bizarre, yet intriguing, coupled with the usual world-ending-dire-circumstances situation.

 

_Ms. Willow Rosenburg and Ms. Elizabeth, Buffy Summers_

_Backyard of 1630 Revello Drive_

_Sunnydale, CA_

_Dear Ms. Rosenburg & Ms. Summers,_

_The Wizarding World calls upon your assistance. We have been beset by a great danger to not only the Wizarding World, but the World beyond it. We are aware of the Dark forces you are currently battling. Know that our own Dark forces have already made inquiries to assist this great Evil._

_We ask that upon your certain victory over the Great Evil, to join us. Soon you will be joined by Others to assist you in your imminent battle._

_If you wish to learn more please meet with our associate from the Order of the Phoenix in Sunnydale, the 3 rd of this month. I thank you for your consideration and we shall be in touch._

_To Strength & Justice,_

_Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Order of the Phoenix Member_

_P.S. A grave injustice has been done to Ms. Rosenburg; it is clear that the system failed you. You should have been placed within an education befitting your magical abilities. If it interests you, we will be more than happy to rectify this injustice._

“Well, nothing foreboding about that. As if we didn’t have enough to deal with.”

“There’s a Wizarding World??? There were schools?!” Willow’s voice grew more strident in disbelief. After all Willow loved learning…


	3. Chapter 3

Faith stood in alert, battle-readiness, watching as the sweet-looking GTO purred its way slowly down their street. The smell of a cigarette and leather alerted Spike’s presence. 

“Any idea who that is Slayer?”

“No idea. But I can… _feel_ somethin’ powerful from inside the car. Get B and Red.” She ordered when the car finally stopped in front of the house.

Grumbling about being no one’s lackey, the vampire strode back inside to get the two women. Faith straightened as the doors opened and out came two, then four women. Make that four hot women and a GTO. Faith shifted to stand in front of the stairs, her favorite knife smoothly slipped into her hand, lightly gripped, and alert. However when the women began walking up towards Faith, one of the taller women, with thick, dark hair along with funky bangs, nodded a greeting at the taciturn Faith.

“Yeah, so I’m guessing that you don’t usually get guests these days, but we’re honestly here to help.” She motioned to her other companions.

By then, Faith had been joined by Buffy, Willow, and Giles. “Oh we get guests, just not the ‘wanted’ kind,” Faith replied.  “So you wanna tell us who you are and what you’re doing here?”

“Actually, you’ll have to hold off on that, we’ve got guests of the ‘unwanted’ kind heading this way.” Buffy jumped off the porch, with Faith following close behind, to speed past their startled guests to greet the Turok-Hans heading their way. Meanwhile Giles quickly darted inside to alert the troops, while Willow stayed on the porch, readying a couple spells, almost forgetting their really hot… guests, who were also moving.

Her eyes bugged out of her sockets, when the tall, gorgeous café au lait-skinned woman, quickly removed her shirt, unveiling a long torso that bunched with sleek muscles, feminine yet strong shoulders, well-defined arms, topped with beautiful, full, heaving breasts with one nipple pierced with a gold hoop, had Willow stopped in her tracks.

The door behind her slammed open, only to hear “Gah! What the…?!” Willow would have rolled her eyes at Xander’s obvious entrance if she wasn’t so… entranced.

“Well if that ain’t a sight for sore eyes!” came the quip from Spike.

But then whatever anyone was about to say was halted as when the woman’s friends returned, the white woman tossed a sword towards the woman (a gift from Uncle John); she gave it an expert twirl, before a **_whoosh_** sounded in the air, and then the bluish-black flames ran down either side until the fire completely encased the weapon. Next she hunched her shoulders, her skin rippled, making all of them take a step back in slight fear and battle-defensiveness. Curiously her friends didn’t seem concerned as they all turned to take on the approaching Turok-Han coming from the direction opposite to Faith and Buffy, with their own weapons. One woman with tight curly locks unleashed two, large chrome Desert Eagles that were busy unloading into the Turok-Hans, only knocking them back a step or caused extreme discomfort.

But then they realized that perhaps she knew this because her other two companions came through with machetes; ducking, doging, and an occasional beheading. However this wasn’t what had their audience stunned. The shuddering, shirtless woman had turned her back, showing the massive tattoo that seemed to be… shifting, moving, like in some kind of weird, macabre picture-show. But then the image gained substance and tore itself from the woman’s back, eliciting a gasp from her. As the woman panted, gathering herself, they were joined by even more Potentials, a squealing Jonathan, and Anya, who let out a gasp of her own.

“I can’t believe it. She’s a **Reliquum**! I thought they were extinct!” Anya exclaimed.

Before anyone could inquire what that was, the entity that’d spilled from the woman’s back, had gained more substance until it stood as if it had simply appeared; a three-headed dragon. It stood growling and roaring, fire spitting from its mouth, standing almost protectively next to the woman who started moving intently towards the rest of the Tuvok-Hans that her friends had been ‘softening’ up. The beast was surprisingly smoothly mobile, as if it were light on its feet,  joining the woman and her companions. The Tuvok-Hans paused for a moment and what astonishingly looked like fear dashed across their ugly visages, before they quickly overcame their reservation and began attacking with renewed vigor.

However, they were essentially corralled into a semi-circle, allowing the sword-wielding woman to behead one, while it roared fire at another, the screech, followed by a burst of ashes, had even Buffy and Faith who’d finally finished off the last of their Tuvok-Hans watched in fascination.

“B...,” Faith leeringly looked over the half-naked woman and her friends, “I think it’s safe to say that I’ll be workin’ out the one  ** _H_** tonight,” she said while shaking her head with some amusement.

“Ahhh…I think you won’t be the only one.” Blushing, Buffy walked back towards the rest of the people spilling out of her house, keeping a watchful eye for either The First and more Tuvok-Hans, or on the battle taking place in front of them. She looked over at Willow who looked as broken as Xander. He snapped out of it quicker when Anya wacked him upside the head.

“Xander the only breasts I want you oogling are mine. Although I can aesthetically appreciate her breasts, especially the one with the decorative ring in her nipple. I wonder if she’d consider having sex with us Xander, that way we can de--,”

“Anya!” exclaimed, well almost everyone except a smirking Spike.

“An, for the love of all that’s holy, please do not finish that sentence!” Begged Dawn, as she too had been having trouble keeping her eyes off of their impressive guests.

“She’s like some kind fierce Valykrie from the ancient tales of lore--,” Andrew’s prattling was immediately cut off when Rona shoved her palm over his mouth.

The one blonde woman of their group came bounding towards them, a grin splitting her tanned face. “Hiya! I see you got a bit of a ruckus. But no worry, we’re here to ‘elp!” She stuck out a hand for shaking. “The name’s Zoe, the sistah with the bangs is Abernathy, Kim’s the one with the ‘canons,’ and the Magnificent-One is Julia.” Then she pointed at the Hydra who was busy, indolently curling itself around Julia, letting out purr that sounded more like a car engine idling as she scratched under its chin. “Oh, and that’s Ari.”

Buffy dazedly shook her hand, noting the human-warmth of her skin, passing one crucial test. “Err, I’m… Buffy.”

Giles walked down the stairs, his eyes riveted on… Julia(?) and… Ari; after all he was a Watcher and if she **was** a Reliquum, he’d want to know, (well that, and he was still a male.). Taking off his glasses yet again, to begin wiping the lenses, he’d been doing that since Julia removed her top. “Yes, my name is Rupert Giles. However, you may call me Giles.” He took a moment to gather himself before clearing his throat to continue. “Perhaps, you should gather your colleagues, and follow us before you attract more unwanted attention.”

Naturally, he didn’t formally invite them in since that’s the Sunnydale Rule #2: don’t invite strangers into your home. They might be the kind of strangers (like vampires) that you won’t be able to get rid of until it’s too late. Sunnydale Rule #1 is: don’t get dead. Easier said than done, of course. Zoe grinned her thanks, and then turned around, placed two fingers in mouth, and whistled. “Hey, round up the troops.”

Abernathy was already moving to grab a bag from the car and a shirt from the never-ending supply for Julia. Kim reached inside the car to grab another bag and her recently bought Twizzlers—she’s always had a bit of an oral-fixation.

However, none of the Sunnydale group moved as they watched as the creature-Ari, let out another great roar before shuddering as if it were experiencing a deep chill. Meanwhile Julia stood still, chanting something, watching fondly as the creature grew smaller, letting out different sounds like baying and little chirps as it grew to almost a miniature size. Then it began to shake more violently until its form grew lighter, more nebulous, its dimensions growing faint, until with a shriek, it was only a two-dimensional creature that then leaped onto Julia’s back, her skin once again rippling, and then stilling into the tattoo it started as.

With wide eyes, Giles could only say one word. “Astonishing.”

“Now **that** is a fucking awesome magic trick,” exclaimed Faith.

Willow was simply stunned and overwhelmed. The woman named Julia… something…well other than the obvious, was making the magic thrum through her veins, causing her toes to curl. There was only one other time she’d experienced that sensation – with Tara


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione wearily held her head in her hands. She was resisting Harry and Ron’s efforts to… talk, or receive Luna’s attempt at comfort. Well really Ron’s efforts because Harry was too busy grieving and growing angry at the death of the beloved House Elf, Dobby. Dobby had saved their lives when they were captured and subsequently tortured by none other than the craziest and most ruthless Death Eater of all, Bellatrix Lestrange. Everyone assumed Hermione was simply grieving Dobby’s brave sacrifice. What they didn’t realize was that Hermonie spent a great deal longer in the “care” of Bellatrix Lestrange. So in addition to grieving for Dobby, Hermione was trying to ‘manage’ the images, the scents, the sounds, and rubbed at the invisible or now-healed scars that dotted her body. Scars she didn’t care for anyone to know about. Rage and despair seethed under her skin like a bubbling caldron and the worst part was that she didn’t know what to do with these intense emotions. It was overwhelming.

They were currently in the eerie, dusty, former home of Sirius Black, it also functioned as the current secret headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Number 12, Grimmauld Placed, the Black family home, now bequeathed to Harry as a result of Sirius Black’s death, was silent as a tomb. Unless anyone either than a pureblood walked in front of the wailing enchanted portrait of Walburga Black, Sirius’ snobbish Mother. Pureblood meaning one’s Wizarding familial lines were “unblemished,” without the taint of Muggle-blood or a Witch from a Non-Wizarding family.

Which comes to the crux of their current battle: Voldemort and his pure-blood cronies wanted to rid their world of any Muggles and their influences. So far they’ve done nothing but tear her world apart and she knew she couldn’t afford the melt-down needed to gather herself. The curious thing is that Hermione hadn’t been able to shed a tear yet. Not since Dobby died in her arms. It’s as if she’d cried up all her tears. For the life of her, she hadn’t a clue what to do about it. Hermione was so busy being introspective that she didn’t hear the door opening, and quiet footsteps pause in front of her until a hand gently touched her shoulder, startling her.

“I’m very zorry ‘Ermione. I ‘ad called your name several times, but you did not answer.” She paused, seeing the stark look of anguish and sheer exhaustion on the brunette’s face, before those emotions were wiped clean. She caustiously stooped down in front of the younger witch, grabbing her still-sore hand to gently hold. “You need to eat zomething… and zleep. Perhaps ‘ou ‘ould like me to make you zomething? A potion perhaps?”

For a moment, Hermione marveled at how soft Fleur’s hands were, but then everything about Fleur was decadent. From her white-blonde hair, to her piercing, silverish-blue eyes, lustrous blonde hair that fell in thick waves down her back. Her once too-feminine physique had become toned and fluid as her connection to the Veela inside her took hold. Surprisingly, Fleur was rather reticent about her physical gifts, and she treated everyone with warmth and respect. All in all, it meant Bill was a very lucky Wizard.

Personally, after years of dealing with Draco, the Slytherins, and now a world run by Voldemort disciples, Hermione had become somewhat jaded. Fleur managed a certain grace and self-possession in the face of all this that Hermione could only envy. But not too much, because she liked this… seasoning, it made her a better Witch, and a better protector. It was why Hermione could acknowledge her suprising attraction to Fleur without really wanting anything to come of it. Plus she was engaged to Bill Weasley, Ron’s brother. So if ever something was taboo it was to lust after a Weasley fiancé.

It also didn’t bother the brown-haired woman that Fleur was a woman. Hermione had found other women attractive, she just never bothered to follow through with anything, especially since **everyone** expected her to marry Ron. She was still trying to figure out how she was going to dissuade Ron of that fact. The fact was she planned on going far away after everything was finished. Of course all of this was based on them defeating Voldemort and his cronies and that she makes it out of this war alive. If they failed then the marriage and liking-women thing would become a moot point.

Fleur marveled at the strength of one, Hermione Granger. She along with Potter and Ron, had been on the front-lines, stealing into the Ministry of Magic, right under Umbridge’s pug nose, and yet managed to escape. They’d been hiding in plain site as they tried to find the horcruxes before Voldemort ascends to his most powerful. At the moment, the vulnerability she saw Hermione trying desperately to hide only made Fleur want to hug her tight, allow her to soak up any strength Fleur had in order to continue on. But Fleur knew Hermonie wouldn’t accept such an offer.

Sighing, Fleur stood up. “I am going to prepare zome food you, I beg you to eat as much as possible.” Walking towards the door, she paused with her hand on the doorknob, “Why don’t ‘ou take a bath, it might help ‘ou to zleep.”

With a slight nod of affirmation from the brown-haired woman, Fleur began her trek back to the kitchen. Her name was Fleur Delacour from France, she comes from a long family of Wizards and Veelas, and an occasional Muggle or two. She attended the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic in France. had been a Tri-Wzard champion, and was their top student during her tenure there. Before the War, she’d been working at the Gringotts Wizarding Bank when she met Bill Weasley, who was now her fiancé. But the fact is… this War had taken a toll on her as well. It forced her to face some essential truths about herself. Truths, that would hurt her friends, perhaps her family, but especially, would hurt Bill.

The fact is she’d been attracted to the same sex since she been a young girl. Her first crush came naturally at the feet of her favorite teacher, named Madamoiselle Ducard. She’d just begun her puberty years; tender, budding breasts, fuller hips, and the emerging Veela, the predator. Next, she became fixated on the shiny dark locks of her best friend, Celeste and one day they shared a kiss. While it was sloppy and inexperienced, she distinctly remembered how the magic thrummed through her veins, the sharp pulsing between her legs, or how she had wanted to grab her friend and press her into the bed. It was only the sharp tone of her Maman calling her name from the doorway of her bedroom that had broken through the Veela-lust that had gripped her true.

Her Maman thought Fleur would not have to ‘suffer’ the effects of the Veela because it skipped every few generations if her Maman didn’t marry another Pure-blood Veela, which she didn’t. However once it was determined that Veela magic ran strongly through Fleur's veins, her Maman and Gran-Mere couldn’t have been more ecstatic. Her Gran-Mere believed that the Veela was a ‘gift’ and that it had chosen the more worthy of their line – hence Fleur. The problem was that while the Veela… _liked_ Bill, It did not **love** him.

Bill was not her Soul-Mate and while the sex was enjoyable, it did not _wake_ the Veela in her. It certainly never made the magic **_thrum_** through her veins, or cause her heart to feel as if it were beating out of her chest, and her ability to reach an orgasm was based on how well she fantasized during those moments. In fact, her inability to truly connect with Bill meant she could not Transform. When a Veela bonds intimately with her Soul-Mate, it finally unleashes the Veela to its fullest. Until such a time, it often felt as if her… _Beast_ was tethered, stretching her skin, making it feel tight like a sunburn. At other times, it made her want to strike out; the Beast wanted this imposter gone, a sensation like a wild animal wanting to tear itself out of her skin so that it can attack Bill. A few nights ago, her eyes had turned a luminescent gold, her nails began to grow in length. Bill startled, but calmed thinking that from what he’d read, that the Veela was “accepting” him. It was at that moment Fleur realized she was in serious trouble: any future attempts to mate with Bill could mean at the very least serious injury, if not death.

Fleur sighed again as she arranged the food that Molly Weasley had prepared earlier. At this point all she could hope was to ensure that her friends and family made it out of this War alive. But first she had to find a way to tell Bill that she could not marry him. And hope that Molly wouldn’t try to beat her with her broom as a result. 


	5. Chapter 5

The phoenix landing on her windowsill was odd. No, it was wondrous because the only phoenix they were aware of was the one that had belonged to the recently deceased Albus Dumbledore. More remarkable, was that it appeared to be delivering mail! Fleur shared a look with Hermione, the only other person in the room. She was gratified to see that this unusual occurrence seemed to have brought a spark of life back into those whiskey-colored eyes. Fleur suspected that Hermione went through something… much worse than she was letting on when she was a prisoner of Bellatrix. But naturally the brave woman wasn’t sharing, and Fleur suspected that was why the talented and brave witch was almost a… shell of herself. What infuriated her was that Harry nor Ron seemed to of registered the changes. It was slightly understandable considering the significant losses they’ve experienced lately, the deplorable systemic changes within the Wizarding world brought facilitated via Voldemort’s loyal followers. Not to mention, the fact that looming on the horizon Harry had a ‘date’ to settle things once and for all with the Dark Lord.

Naturally nothing was that easy or straightforward. On this dangerous path were ‘traps’ guaranteed to stretch their reserves, their bravery, and their lives as they fought through many of Voldemort’s dangerous followers like Bellatrix, Lucius Malfoy, or Fenir Greyback. None of them will come out unscathed, but it’s clear that the Golden Trio might risk the most. Dying is easy; it is how one dies that tests the bravery of the people like those from the Order of the Phoenix. Hermonie, maybe even Harry might have already learned that lesson better than most.

However the unusual appearance of a bird thought to be long lost was in their midst, baring mail and small pouch. Sharing another look with Hermione, Fleur cautiously approached the bird, almost expecting it to vanish like floo powder in the wind. Fawkes hopped a little closer to her hand, the leg with the letter wrapped around the small pouch, nudging closer, until Fleur carefully retrieved the piece of parchment. The warmth of Hermione’s body standing next her indicated she was as curious and a little impatient to see the letter.

Sighing, girding her loins for any potential unpleasantness, first Fleur unrolled the paper, while handing the pouch to Hermione. As Fleur started to untie the pouch, both women began to read. When they finished they experienced feelings of confusion, disbelief, and… even hope. Hermione poured the contents of the pouch into her palm, gasping at the two stones; fluorescent, one was a reddish color, and the other was green. Both started to glow as the heat from her palm warm the stones, making her skin tingle slightly. Hermonie grabbed the letter that had been post-dated before Dumbledore’s death, and re-read the letter, as Fleur sat down on the window seat.

 

_Greetings Ms. Granger and Ms. Delacour,_

_If you are receiving this message it is because I have met an untimely death. I am bequeathing you the contents of this pouch as they had great significance to me and I know that you would treasure as much as I once did._

_Please continue to bravely serve the Wizarding World and continue your studies to the best of your abilities and know that I am always with you._

_Godspeed,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

“Do you zhink it is real?” There was so much uncertainty and efforts towards finding members of the Phoenix that one could never be too sure.

Hermione lifted eyes gone dark with emotions. “I think so. I-I just don’t know what to make of it.”

And these stones… already she could feel a slight tingly feeling. Does that mean that they’ve been activated or is there some kind of… action needed to activate them? She stared down at hers, bringing it closer to examine it as it curiously started to glow. She looked over towards Fleur’s hand and she seemed to be experiencing something similar. “Is your palm tingling a little?”

Nodding, Fleur took the letter from the Englishwoman’s hand again, she too re-read the message, trying to discern more from the message, until they were interrupted by noise from the forgotten Phoenix. “We must feed ‘im.” Fleur got up to go retrieve a snack for the bird from the kitchen, while placing her stone into her pocket for further examination. “I’ll get zomething for him, you try to see if anyzhing else can be revealed.”

Hermione was about to ask why her, when Fleur smirked, somehow managing to look charming at the same time. “Because you were always zhe most brilliant Witch and if anyone can figure it out, it would be ‘ou.” Fleur started for the door, “Pluz we both need to eat, non?”  And with that she left Hermione to the letter and their unusual guest.

The mink-haired woman spent some time considering a spell that might reveal any hidden codes or messages. She didn’t even realize that the deep despondency that had gripped her, the seething rage that coursed through her veins, or the stark fear that sometimes paralyzed her, wasn’t present. For now she resembled the Hermione who spent hours studying, researching in Hogwarts library.

Once she settled on a spell, she retrieved her wand from her side wand-holster, gave it a specific motion along with a few phrases, a yellowish light spilled out from it to land on the paper. She waited a few moments, and then took another closer look at the message, and sure enough words began winding and dancing incomprehensively on the page until they sorted themselves out to resemble proper sentences. Eyes widening in disbelief and then abject fear, she re-read it again while waiting impatiently for Fleur to return.

_12 Grimmwauld Place, Black Residence_

_3 rd Floor, First Room on the Left_

_London, England_

_Dear Ms. Delacour and Ms. Grangers,_

_If you have received this letter and a pouch then it is because both my inevitable death and that the prophecy involving the both of you has begun._

_I recognize that both objects may come as shock to you, but know that everything_ _you read_ _here is true. You both have a destiny that is intertwined with coming events with Voldemort. This destiny involves a group of extraordinary individuals, led by Slayers, a Clan, and a Red Witch from America. It is believed that they will have a profound impact in the Great War. It is not clear how yet, but they are essential. However, know that they are in the midst of a Battle themselves to save the world from an Evil so powerful that it has gained the notice of certain Dark Forces within our world. It is imperative that you all unite to stop these forces from linking together, for that would surely doom us all._

_These stones contain great and complex magic, magic not of this world. The green is for the Ms. Delacour and the red is for Ms. Granger. With these stones a bond will form between you and your possible future. A future that will have an enormous impact on the War. It is unclear what this future entails, but we suspect it has to do with the Slayer, the Red Witch, and the Clan._

_If you are wondering why you; the Prophesy clearly states an exceptional and brilliant young witch AND a unique, yet untapped powerful Veela witch. It is also said that this is your burden alone until such a time is appropriate to alert the Order. I have the utmost faith in both of you and Ms. Delacour your mentor, Madame Olympe Maxime has the utmost confidence in your abilities to carry out this mission. Granted it is a large one, but with both of you working together, I believe you shall surprise each other with your continued bravery and your dedication._

_May Merlin watch over you and Godspeed._

_I_ _n Spirit,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

 

When the door opened with Fleur once again carrying a tray of food (this seemed to be a regular occurrence between them), Hermione lifted her eyes, waited as the blonde witch fed a piece of bacon to Fawkes. She wordlessly handed over the letter and waited for Fleur’s reaction. She didn’t have long to wait.

“Ze Zlayer?! But zhis was a… how do you zay it? Myth?” Her accent thickening as her emotions seemed to intensify. White-blonde hair hung down as she once again re-read the hidden message. “Apparently we are to have zome ‘elp. But it sayz they will be coming from zee States.” Fleur paused as a thought occurred to her. “It is very curious az to why the Americaines ‘ave not become involved in zhis war, don’t you zhink?”

“Officially, it doesn’t appear as if the Americans are getting involved. This is some kind of… connection between Dumbledore, those stones, and something else.” Frowning, Hermione sat down next to Fleur, cautiously taking the red stone from Fleur’s hand. Why only them? Why not alert the Order? Or did other members get a similar message? “Do you think anyone else received this message?”

Hermione let out a huge sigh before responding. “I know about as much as you, my friend. I am also considering that the fact that Dumbledore waited until now, with only the two of us, to have this message delivered, makes me believe that this information is for our eyes only.” For some reason Hermione liked that.

She spent so little time with other women, most of her time was spent keeping Harry or Ron safe, or researching, that sharing this important task with another woman, especially Fleur Delacour was... acceptable. “But I think it’s time to try to find out. Since I’m fairly proficient in navigating the Muggle world, we’ll have to try our luck with Muggle technology—specifically the Internet.”

Fleur looked confused. “Zhe Internet? What is zhat?”

Hermione found herself grinning. “Leave that to me. In the meantime we’re going into London tomorrow.” She paused, realizing she was being bossy. “If you’d like.”

Fleur released a smile of her own, enjoying this secret quest, and knowing that Hermione was everything she could want in a companion who was chosen to share in this task with her. She realized that this was more than likely another dangerous task, and they could ill-afford to not focus their energies on finding the rest of the horcruxes, while shoring their resources. But if the rewards hinted at in the letter were real, then it could significantly change the course of this War, likely changing both her and Hermione as well.


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione snuck a glance over Fleur’s outfit for their important outing in London. She looked like any other chic, Londoner, with dark, skinny jeans, a cobalt-blue, buttoned-down shirt, with a three-quarter lengths, fitted, black overcoat. Her hair was styled simply and hung thick and long. Her upper-crust bearing was illustrated in the way she carried herself, along with her good-looks, made Fleur stand out. Immediately, Hermione insisted they purchase a cap to tuck her hair in, since the Order members, or other opponents of Voldemort were either openly attacked even within the Muggle world (as evidenced when they attempted to squire Harry away from his Aunt’s home and they were immediately set upon by Voldemort’s cronies). Or they were kidnapped and brought to either the ‘new” Ministry of Magic where the horrible Dolores Umbridge “interrogated” you, or you were given into the care of a Death-Eater. All of this depended on the prisoner’s status on the Dark Lord’s most-wanted List.

Hermione, as part of the Golden Trio,  Fleur as a “dirty” magical creature, the Veela, and both being members of the Order, getting captured would be a coup for Voldemort’s followers. So it was imperative that they remained vigilant and discrete.  Both wore smart looking caps, hair tucked into it, and wands discretely tucked into their wrist-holsters.

“Come on, I know of a café nearby where they have computers.” Hermione grabbed Fleur’s hand and hurried them across the street to the aforementioned café.

“’Ermione, what iz thiz computer?” Fleur was slightly amused with the Englishwoman’s enthusiasm.

“I’ll show you. It’s Muggle technology and very useful to quickly find information. My mum had gotten one for the house, it was quite exciting. So much information!” Fleur was captivated by the fierce light dancing in those whiskey-brown eyes. It was all she could to not hug the woman because she hadn’t seen **this** Hermione in such a long time.

Finally they found themselves in the café, the tantalizing smells of coffee and tea wafting through the air. Fleur looked at the flat-square like contraptions that appeared to show various images on, as people in front of them typed away on a keyboard. “Ok, so these are computers. You can type in various requests and it will search the answers for you.”

Fleur was impressed and even more amused because she wasn’t completely sheltered from the Muggle world. But if it got Hermione excited, while encouraging her usual confidence then she was willing to ‘suffer’ through a lesson on Muggle technology. Fleur waited while Hermione paid for the usage she then bought for herself a cup of tea and coffee for Fleur. Once Fleur helped her to bring their drinks over and they both settled in front of the computer.

“What now? Do we zimply type in… Slayer?” Fleur sipped her coffee, watching as Hermione frowned while she tried to think of a keyword to begin their search.

“Well we have three things mentioned in the letter: Slayers, Red Witch, and Clan. I figured if we start there. Perhaps we’ll find something?”

Fleur nodded and smiled. “Bien! I knew that you would zhink of something, mon ami.” Hermione grinned back at her, before rolling her eyes and began to type. 


	7. Chapter 7

Faith, an injured Buffy, Julia, Willow, Dawn, Zoe, an injured and trembling Abernathy, Kim, Kennedy, Vi, a devastated Xander, Giles, with a severely injured Robin leaning on him, and a trembling Andrew, all stood wide-eyed, panting heavily, as the giant sink-hole that used to be the school continued to rumble, ripple, and expand. Quickly Giles and Zoe started off towards the school bus to start it up. They had a sneaking suspicion that they’ll need to be on it very soon. Once the bus was rumbling and slowly began to move, everyone else began running to jump on, as the hole kept expanding. First they managed to get Robin, Abernathy, and Xander on. Then they helped a severely depleted Willow, whose hair and eyes were still white as the most powerful of magic continued to course through her veins. Buffy was the last to get on, with eyes grown blurry with tears, Julia was there to grip her hand and pull her onto the bus, as the vehicle picked up speed, the edge of the hole just missing the back tires.

Dawn threw a shirt at Julia; whose naked torso looked like it’d been dipped in blood and other fluids. Everyone was either too exhausted, grief-stricken, or too injured, to appreciate Julia’s half-nakedness. But they had bigger concerns such as getting the injured some real medical attention, rather than the patch-job they’d been given, and finding a place to recover for their group. Anya, Spike, and some Baby Slayers hadn’t made it out of the battle. In fact, Dawn wasn’t sure how **any** of them made it out when those hordes of Uber-Vamps and other demons started streaming out from the Hellmouth.

Then Buffy got stabbed in the stomach and might have died if she hadn’t been wearing with some kind necklace given to them by Julia via her Uncle John. Both of these objects lit up like some kind of huge sunbeam, only it was white mixed with blue and red, when this light spilled forth from Willow, hitting Julia, and then Buffy, Faith, and coalescing in Spike. When it was all over, Spike was gone, and Buffy, Willow, Faith, Dawn, and Julia stood gasping for breath, feeling as if they’d momentarily blacked-out, until they realized that the Hellmouth had become a growing sinkhole. 

When they were finally settled on the bus, Buffy realized that the serious wound she’d received was still weeping blood, but that some kind of reddish energy was breaking through the skin, and actually… healing it. She quickly looked around; making sure everyone’s attention was elsewhere. She took a serious assessment of herself: bruises, cuts – no longer bleeding or even painful. Either it was Slayer healing-on-crack, or it had something to do with that beam of light that poured into her. Suddenly she felt a wave of intense exhaustion come over her, making her eyelids heavy and her limbs sluggish. She decided to give into it; she just didn’t have the energy to fight it. She still didn’t move when they came to a rest-stop, worrying Dawn who went to check up on her. For a moment she felt an intense moment of fear looking down at Buffy. Especially when Dawn repeatedly called her name and Buffy never responded or woke. Zoe came to join her – Buffy and she had become rather close within the last few weeks. Dawn didn’t understand it, but their ‘friendship’ seemed to work.

“What’s wrong? Is she all right?” Zoe slid in next to the Buffy, gently fitting her palm to the Slayer’s forehead. The intense sense of relief that zipped through her veins when she realized that Buffy was in a deep sleep was excruciating. “She’s fine. She appears to be sleeping.”

“Then why isn’t she waking?” Dawn didn’t think she could survive losing her sister right now.

“Because I haven’t got a decent night’s sleep in weeks. No, make that months,” the Slayer suddenly responded without opening her eyes.

Startled, but relieved Dawn hugged her sister even as she protested. “I-I just wanted to make sure Buff.”

Eyes opened now, Buffy gently tucked a strand of hair behind her sister’s ear, nodded a greeting in Zoe’s direction. “I also had a visit from Whistler.”

Tensing, Dawn knew that whenever the Balance Demon or the PtB’s Mouthpiece came around, usually nothing of the good came from it. “What did he want?”

Chuckling tiredly, she said, “Apparently, we’re needed across the Pond.”

The Slayer watched as Zoe scowled (Damn Brits), while Dawn frowned in bewilderment. “What pond?” 


	8. Chapter 8

What Buffy didn’t notice was that Faith, Julia, and Willow had also fallen into a sudden, deep sleep around the same time. They too had a _visitor_ ; while Faith and Willow were visited by Whistler, Julia was visited by her Father. All were told about yet another prophesy, something about a phoenix, bonds forming, two Witches – one a Veela(?) and the other part of a Golden Trio. Apparently, their world was imploding and they needed their help. Julia was told of a bond between her and two others: one she already knew and another awaiting her arrival. Julia’s mind immediately went to thoughts of the red-head.

Willow and she had grown close leading up to the battle with The First. Sometimes, Julia would find herself staring as the Witch was bent over some tome or another, her forehead scrunched in concentration, she found herself thinking how utterly adorable she was. Other times when the sun would catchy that fiery-red mane just so, lighting it up like Ari’s dragon breath, Julia would find her heart racing, or her breath catching. Willow was unlike anyone she’d ever known. Julia tended to surround herself with fairly confident, sexually aware, smart-ass friends (hence the reason why Faith and she could be found on the top of some roof, sharing beers or a smoke).

Willow was sweet and kind, but she was also filled with a kind of… depthness that only comes from a deep loss, coupled with life-changing events that would destroy most people, but only seemed to strengthen people like Willow. Even if the witch didn’t even realize it. They’ve had some long conversations, revelations about their past that had even Julia surprising herself that with her pwn openness. Julia wasn’t even sure when she started to imagine the red-head naked. Could it have been when she’d catch Willow staring at Julia’s own half-nakedness with an almost hungry expression on her face, right before seeming to catch herself, becoming mortified, and then blushing a deep red?

Perhaps it was when Willow had just showered, wearing boi shorts that seemed to accentuate her surprisingly firm and perky ass. Nor did the snug t-shirt totally hide the full breasts and taut nipples, hidden under the deep-purple, spaghetti-strap shirt that clung to her still slightly damp skin, the long, lithe legs, or arms and shoulders that were surprisingly toned, and peppered with the cutest freckles. Julia remembered both of them standing, watching each other; Willow with a sense of bashfulness, and Julia with a knowing and appreciative look. She also tried to ignore the growl that’d well up anytime that annoying whippersnapper, Kennedy came ‘sniffing’ anywhere near Willow. She was so obvious. So obvious in fact, that it was all Julia could do to not smack her upside her head for reasons she didn’t want to examine yet.

What people didn’t know was that Julia could love a person’s mind as much as their body. The smarter, the better. Only she’d given up on that high standard long ago, even before her Re-Birth. Being well aware of her gods-given good looks, her smooth, naturally seductive tones, made her options for dating wide open. Only the truly smart ones never thought that a) she could hold her own or b) she wasn't out of their league. Willow’s mind was exceptional, in fact, she is what’s termed as a prodigy, brilliant, and so, so, sexy. When Willow found that Julia could keep up more often than not, it made for some lively discussions, the attraction acknowledged, yet never addressed. At least not yet.

This… _thing_ with Willow was different than what she had with her Clan. Her Clan was family; most times they were found naked and curled around each other for comfort, similar to big cats, or other animal species. Prior to realizing her attraction to Willow, they occasionally had sex, but it was casual, and even meant to cement a familial-like bond. Other times it was because of the blood-lust coursing hotly through her veins following a battle. When she had sex during these instances, it was often rougher, coupled with an occasional bite, scratches, mostly to signify a possessiveness, to assert her Dominance.

To know that Willow was a part of some kind of prophesized bond with her and another was… deeply gratifying. 


	9. Chapter 9

Willow was scared. Well, she was a different kind of scared. She was definitely frightened leading up to the whole battle with The First, but she was sort of…  _used_ to that kind of stuff. Granted maybe not on that scale, but definitely familiar with taking up arms even though she was scared shitless. No, this was another kind of trepidation. And her name was Julia.

She had sort of committed herself to not having any meaningful, deep, bond-like, sexy-times, kind of attraction since Tara. Julia was challenging at least a couple of those expectations. It didn’t help that she was miles-and-away sexy and it was the kind of even hotter that Julia didn’t have to try. From the sound of her voice down to her fire-engine-red, painted toenails, Julia embodied the kind of woman that… well, she thought only existed in movies. Willow would say she wasn’t even her type – she seemed more of the Faith-kind of type (and the Faith-kind of sexy). But it seemed as though those two women were better as friends; apparently when two people are too alike, they become more of a drinking buddy than a sexual partner.

Abernathy put it best. “Those two would end up killin’ each other cause they’re so alike. I mean who wants to date someone with no mystery?! And there is such a thing as knowing too much of the other’s thoughts.” She snorted. “Like I said, ‘a girl’s gotta have some mystery.’”

But she was just Willow. How she found herself drawn to someone who seemingly appeared out of her league, or far from her type if one considered Tara or Oz, she’ll never know. So she decided to blame it on the Hellmouth; home of where anything (usually unpleasant) can happen and did. That didn’t stop her from… wanting the darker woman. She’d only just recently admitted it to herself, as Willow sat on a school-bus filled with broken limbs, and even a couple of broken dreams, if the grief staining Xander’s features was anything to go by. Actually she finally admitted her attraction to herself, as Julia fiercely and bravely fought off anything that came near Willow during the battle.

With Ari on one side breathing fire, tearing limbs into dust, Julia would occasionally touch Willow, offering her strength when hers started to wane, or become a little unfocused. Like that time when an Uber-Vamp managed to slip through Julia’s defenses to get a swipe with its claws on the side of Julia's torso. But then it was dust, Julia sent a look in Willow’s direction letting her know she was ok,  emnating fierce concern for Willow's wellbeing as well, before she went on fighting. It was when the Willow released the energy, turning the Potentials into Slayers, the Power spilled out of her and into Julia, and for a moment the Power held, binding them together, before spilling out into the Potentials, then Faith, Buffy,Dawn, Spike, and then beyond.

But it was in that moment when it was just the two of them, Jules and Willow, like a key that finally fit a lock, was when Willow stopped deluding herself. She _wanted_. She wanted to touch that pecan-colored skin and see if it was as silky-soft as she suspected. She wanted to know what Jules sounded like in the throes of passion – what her voice, with all kinds of sexiness, would do to Willow when she was urging the red-head towards climax, or even begging for one herself, that had left Willow staining the crotch of her panties with her juices.

Then there was Julia’s impressive physical attributes, which she unselfconsciously didn’t mind exposing. That was until Buffy or Giles finally begged her to be fully clothed as much as possible. Now that was a funny conversation; it had pulled her from her research, or the melancholy regarding Tara, even the worry that at having glimpsed how powerful the spell they’d need for The First battle, that given her history, she’d get it terribly wrong.  All of it had been pushed aside for that moment's amusement, humor that was desperately needed to cut up the growing tension, stress, and fear. Willow was given a play-by-play soon after Giles’ pleading.

_Giles slightly stumbled into the work-out room they’d made in one of the abandoned houses, because as usual Julia wasn’t wearing a shirt. Thankfully she was wearing a bra; albeit a bra that didn’t leave a lot to the imagination. Removing his glasses to furiously wipe the lens, he desperately tried to look anywhere but at all that gleaming, cafe-au-lait, feminine skin, he finally addressed the reason he was here._

_“Ah, yes, Julia, if I could have a moment of your time. I wondered if you could accommodate a request?”_

_She paused sparring with Abernathy and Faith, bringing her hands with expandable batons to rest at her sides. Panting she grabbed a hand-towel from nearby. “Sure Giles. What can I do you for?”_

_Giles wondered how he had any blood left over from all the blushing he did around Julia. Faith had been bad enough, but Julia, and occasionally Julia and Faith teasing was almost more then he could handle. “Yes, well, umm, I wondered if you,” he paused to once again remove his glasses for more lens-washing before returning them to his face, “Yes, I wondered if I could ask you to… to remain mostly clothed until as such a time it necessitates you being… less clothed?” When Julia simply raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow, a grin threatening to dance across her full lips, as she waited for Giles to sputter through his explanation. “Yes, i-it’s simply or, or it has more to do with keeping focus… not me of course. Although you are certainly not unattrac--,”_

_  
Laughing, Faith saved Giles from making a bigger idiot of himself. “G-Man, please you’re killin’ me here! She’s got it: keep it on until ya can’t. Impressionable girls and all that… Or it is impressionable Watchers?”_

_Chuckling, Julia shrugged on a t-shirt before patting Giles on the shoulder. “No problem Giles. I sometimes forget how repressed most people are, particularly tea-drinking-Watchery-types.”_

All bets were off when Julia was in her room, or definitely when she needed to let Ari loose, though she remained _mostly_ clothed as much as possible. Willow remembered when Jules caught her sneaking glances at her long, shapely legs, or breasts. Willow swore the firestorm of a blush that stained her cheeks was going to burn her as a consequence.

Knowing copper-colored eyes caught wide green ones. “Feel free to touch if you’d like Sugar,” she said with some seductive amusement. Oh that’s another thing; like Faith, she had a thing for nicknames and she’s decided that Willow’s was Sugar. “Don’t worry, I won’t bite…much.” Julia tried not to snicker over that cliche.

She then slowly prowled towards where Willow was sitting, which was in her usual spot in front of the computer, her gait smooth and confident, muscles bunching and releasing, beautiful, dangerous, and seductive.

Leaning down, causing Willow to grow still, her full lips brushing against the edge of Willow’s blush-stained ear, as her distinctive scent engulfed the red-head. “All you have to do is ask.”

And with she gently nipped Willow's earlobe, eliciting a gasp from the red-head, before standing up, and leaving the room. Actually it was more like leaving Willow in an emotionally aroused mess.

It had been the first time that someone had broken through her Tara-sized wall, awakening things she thought she’d buried, or disappeared forever because those… things were for Tara. Julia challenged all of that, and now she felt a connection to her that was intense, deep, all kinds of erotic, and a tad wild. Considering that Willow spent these last couple of years learning about control, Julia was making that control very difficult.

If she were honest with herself, it wasn’t simply about the magic either. The fact was no matter how much she attempted to remind herself to stay ‘true’ to Tara, Julia was reminding her to… _**live**_ because Willow had been simply surviving on a day-to-day basis. And she would have been satisfied if she’d fallen during The First battle—of course after she felt certain that they’d win. Really it was the only way; the only way she could remain committed to Tara’s memory. But something happened when that beam of energy and powerful magic exploded from her, connecting to Julia. Tara appeared, smiling her usual smile. Willow remembered her eyes immediately began to water, especially when Tara raised her hand with the same exact candle used on that night so long ago. It was lit. But then Tara’s expression turned tender, yet sad as she blew out the candle, the flame snuffed out, even the candle disappeared, as her hand clenched into a fist.

But when she opened it, in its place was a stone a blue, almost translucent stone, laying in the middle of a tattooed version of the same symbol that was branded onto Abernathy, Zoe, and Kim’s palms, the same symbol that stood out in beautiful artistry on Julia’s back. Then Tara smiled, nodding, as her image faded away. But then the spell had fully taken hold and she hadn’t even remembered that moment until hours later.

Until now. Clearly, Tara was truly saying goodbye, that it was time for Willow to move on. And that her future involved Julia in some way. The blue stone threw her for a loop. Willow looked up from her barely eaten meal of grilled cheese and tomato soup; almost involuntarily her eyes sought Julia. They were now in Angel’s hotel, they Hyperion. Dawn and Kim had taken the injured to the hospital, Xander was in his designated room, the Baby Slayers, as Faith dubbed them, were energetically milling about. Faith and Abernathy had promised to take some of them out on a patrol. Willow, Wesley, Dawn, Jonathan, even Giles, had set up the large ballroom as their center of operations.

A bank of three computers, with more arriving, were set-up for Willow’s use. She’d been running a program to seek, collate, and redirect any and all Council funds and resources to an account she set up. They were in the process of planning and right now, Jonathan was busy finding any Council properties in England big enough to set up their new HQ. Giles, after Angel had arranged a land-line for his use, was attempting to track down any Council Watchers or other staff that hadn’t been killed by The First.

Julia looking weary, yet still beautiful, gently smiled at the red-head, sensing that Willow’s emotions were too intense to do anything more than that. She was wearing her usual short-shorts, sprawled out in a over-stuffed chair that they'd dragged into the ballroom in case someone wanted to take a break. Willow’s eyes widened when Julia got up to stroll over to her, plopping down into the chair next to her.

“You ok?” Julia asked.

For a moment, Willow didn’t answer, staring off into space, swallowing down the hot and tangy press of emotions threatening to spill tears down her cheeks. Suddenly realizing that she’d been holding everything in, but now she no longer had the strength or will to do so. When she felt a warm hand begin to stroke the middle of her back, the warmth of Jules’ skin, the scent of her loosened the red-head’s control, causing her to let go. Julia reached over, capturing a tear making tracks down her face, she firmly tugged the red-head into her arms. Willow resisted for about two seconds before tucking her face into  the crook of Julia’s warm neck, sobs began to wrack her frame, as deceptively muscular arms wrapped tight around her. Weirdly enough, Willow couldn’t remember a time when she felt more…safe.

“I got you, Sugar.” They were only words Willow heard as she cried herself to sleep. 


	10. Chapter 10

Fleur and Hermonie unknowingly startled awake at the same time. It was the same time a powerful spell was released from a certain witch using a certain **_Reliquum_** as an avatar, in a certain Hellmouth that was now a sinkhole. However, Fleur and Hermonie weren’t the only ones who noticed. Bellatrix shuddered as the powerful magic coursed through her to fizzle away like dust in the wind. She attempted to harness it, especially since it was so delicious, and more importantly, powerful. The Dark Lord would have been pleased if she could have harnessed it.

The puzzle of course, is origin of the magic. Usually the Ministry’s Aurors would already be enroute to find the culprit. But since they’d taken over, efforts had been redirected to other _things;_  can’t very well have an Auror appearing when they were busy culling the nasty Muggles? It could have been the Dark Lord who casted the spell. But it didn’t have his unique… flavor. _It was ‘tainted’ with earth magic, White magic,_ she thought with an ugly sneer. The Dark Lord would never sully his wand with such paltry magic.

Today she thought she’d ‘play’ with her new “pets.” Filthy Muggles and Squibs who were currently ‘resting’ in Malfoy Manor and now the current Dark Lord's headquarters' dungeon. She couldn’t stand their stench of goodness, it made her want to do dark, awful, yet amusing things to them. But the Dark Lord had forbidden her from killing anymore of their… _guests_. Apparently he had some designs on them and they were currently waiting for the arrival of one other. It didn't help that three (well two since that Blood traitor Weasley wan't really a... worthy advesary) of her prize “possessions” managed to escape. Bellatrix went on a rampage the next few days following the escape of Mudblood witch, Hermonie Granger, that traitorous Ronald Weasley, and _Harry Potter_. She could remember a red haze coming over her after their escape and when it cleared: her dear sister, Narcissca was cowering in the corner, with flecks of blood dotting her porcelain skin, a couple Death Eaters had met their demise, and a Muggle who’d just arrived, were lying still and bloodied on the floor.

Sighing, Bellatrix admittedly realized that her control was somewhat… _lacking_ at times. But it’s what made her the Dark Lord’s favorite, even forcing her to realize in her rare moments of clarity that she'd become certifiable. Those years of Rodolphus' abuse until she became stronger, fearless, and crazy enough to fight back --viciously, meeting the Dark Lord, the First War, years spent being tortured by Dementors in Azkaban, all of which created a perfect storm. She had few sane moments; concepts like love and compassion were of little use to her own brand of psychosis. Admittedly she felt a sort of bastardized, warped version love that she had for her Dark Lord, not the kind  of love that had her sneaking food to Andromeda's room when their tyrant father sent her to her room without dinner. The kind that stood in front of Narcissa as older Slytherrin bullies attempted to hex her. However, none of that mattered. 

For now, the more pressing issue was to find out the origins of the powerful spell because whoever was able to cast such a spell would be a boon to the Dark Lord’s plans. It didn’t occur to her that the person who casted it didn’t come from a pureblood lineage, the reason being that only a pureblood would have the capability and power to cast that spell.

She couldn’t be more wrong.


	11. Chapter 11

The Headquarters for the Order was in an uproar. Recently, huge magical shockwaves, like a silent thunder rattled powerful invisible barriers. Odder still, was that like most random magic spells, it blanketed the Headquarters somewhat equally, appearing to have coalesced somewhere inside the building; like the spell was seeking something or someone. It had awakened everyone thinking that it was an attack by Voldemort or his Death Eaters.  But while the _flavor_ of the magic was Dark Magic, it was a **_pure_** kind of Dark magic, not tainted with the kind of twisted, dark magic practiced by Voldemort and his followers. It was also balanced by very pure White or Earth magic. Very few, aside from Dumbldore were able to absorb, much less practice White Magic. In most of the Wizarding World, everyone’s magical core were colored by their experiences, the experiences of their ancestors, and their core beliefs; a blend of dark and white. To execute a spell with pure Dark and White was almost unheard of, particularly the strength of this spell. 

Currently they were gathered in the library; Molly fussed over the food, Remus stood calmly next to a seated Nymphodora Tonks (whose hair was currently green), Arthur Weasley was looking over a book with Kingsley Shaklebolt, Neville stood near one of the windows with Luna, who was busy instructing her writing quill. Harry, Ron, and Bill spilled into the room, talking animatedly –well Ron and Harry were, Bill had been rather quiet lately. Things between him and Fleur weren’t… the best.  Perhaps it was the stress of the War, perhaps it was him being infected by Fenir Greyback with Werewolf lycanthropy. Although he didn’t think so, since Fleur was a bit on the _animalistic_ side herself because of her Veela blood, even if she’d never felt comfortable enough to show him. Another source of contention? The fact that he could never convince Fleur to share more of herself, particularly the Veela, with him was troublesome. Did she think he would love her any less? It didn’t help that when he finally met her Mother, Apoline, her eyes had turned cold and flat upon shaking his hand.

Looking down her nose at him, even though he was taller, she explained her off-putting behavior. “The Veela will never accept you because you are not her true Mate. I-I had ‘oped, but non, it iz clear.” With that and a swish of her dress, she turned and left the room, leaving his mouth agape. Fleur had been visiting with her Father at that moment and Bill he never told her. Frankly he was surprised Apoline didn’t tell Fleur; the stress of waiting for Fleur to find out had been nerve-wracking. Now, he believed she finally knew, which would explain the emotional distance. In a way, he was a little relieved: it was bit like having a big secret that you’d kept hidden, only to find out that the secret had been revealed.

He noticed that when he looked around the room that once again, both Fleur AND Hermione weren’t here. _Most likely they were together; thick as thieves, those two_ , he mentally sneered. That was the other thing he’d noticed. Before, Hermione appeared to have an aversion to being in the same room with the blonde for any length of time. Now, they spent hours in each other’s room, hour’s pouring over books in the library, they’d even occasionally disappear for hours. And whenever he inquired about their newfound friendship, it was always something like “oh, we did zome shopping in London,” or “we are searching for spell,” and “’Emione needed me for zomething.” How about he needed Fleur for something?!

It was clear that they needed to have a conversation soon, probably the toughest one he’d ever had. Even his nosey Mother noticed.

She snagged the sleeve of his jacket before he could dart away and dragged him into the kitchen. “All right! What is going on?! Shouldn’t we be planning a wedding?”

“Mum, should we be considering a wedding? What with everything that’s going on.” He really wasn’t ready to have this conversation with his overprotective Mother. Not to mention, Mum had a way of making her displeasure felt, so he imagined that Fleur would be persona non grata if his Mum ever found out the current state of affairs. 


	12. Chapter 12

Both women groaned, feeling as if every part of their body hurt, like they’d had a strenuous Quidditch match, and were knocked off their broom. Hermione blinked, the sunlight from the window hitting her still sensitive eyes, making them water. She slowly brought her hand to her brow, massaging it, hoping to get rid of the deep ache above her eyebrow. She decided to do a body check, trying to figure out where she was. The fierce knocking on the door had awakened her and by the groan coming from the other side of the room, Fleur as well.

She painfully shifted her limbs, only to realize that she was on the floor; which might also explain why she was sore. But she didn’t think so. Sifting through her most recent memories, she remembered the beam of light that simultaneously hit her and Fleur at the same time, making their limbs seize, their magic bubble before they became unconscious.  They were startled to wakefulness by a pounding on the door, followed by a summons to the library for an urgent Order meeting. Luckily whoever it was, Ron, if the bellowing sounds of his voice was any indication, didn’t bother to open the door, or he’d have seen Hermione on the floor, and Fleur lying propped against the wall. She’d slid there after convulsing on the window seat, nearly cracking her head on the window.

Finally, Hermione sorted herself enough to slowly sit up, trailing her eyes over to Fleur who was pressing a trembling hand to her brow, silvery-blue eyes slightly bloodshot, making Hermione think that hers probably weren’t much better. “Are you all right?”

Fleur was trying to process thinking even though it felt like an anvil had taken up residence in her head. “I zhink so… What ‘appened?”

For some reason her fingers immediately went to find the special stone in her pocket, its smooth, slightly warm surface, comforting. Oddly enough, the more she touched it the more the pain in her head lessened. It didn’t end there; suddenly a cooling sensation washed up from those stone, flowed through her fingers, into her arm, and throughout the rest of the body, soothing all the recent aches and pains.

“Ermione touch your stone.”

Since receiving the stones, the stones were never far from their person; always tucked away in their pockets, or slept with it tucked underneath their pillow. Hermione reached into her own pocket for her stone and gasped as the same cooling sensation washed through her body. They shared a look only to gasp again. Visions of people, mostly young women, in some kind of battle with things that were only imagined in legend and nightmares, flickered like fast video montage through their minds. A short blonde woman wielding an impressively-intimidating weapon, a taller tanned figure with thick, dark hair, and leather pants appeared to wielding a similar weapon, except it was colored differently.

They saw a weeping male, with a strapping build, and a leather eye-patch; a nut-brown skinned woman, with short tight curly locks staring down the muzzle of a Muggle weapon –a gun; an older male, graying hair, Tweed jacket, and glasses, weary, driving a... school bus? There was also an image of a blonde-haired male, wearing a leather duster, they gasped as his face impossibly shifted. Vampire!

But for Fleur there was only one image that burned its image into her brain. Even her Veela took notice in a way it never had before. A red-headed woman, standing bravely, lips moving as if she were casting something, as another, taller, caramel-skinned, warrior-woman protectively fended off monstrous-looking creatures. One could almost mistake the red-head for a Weasley and for a moment her heart raced as she seriously hoped that the Weasley’s didn’t have a missing relative somewhere. But she’d never seen a Weasley who looked like this.

The women were **_magnificique_**! Her Veela had been restless ever since. The disconcerting sensation was akin to an entity metaphysically shifting and pacing inside one’s skin. It was all she could do to not contact her Maman and find out why her Veela was reacting in such a way. But then she’d have to tell her about her other autonomic reactions; hardened nipples, extra sensitive every time they brushed against her lacy bra, her stomach knotted as a pool of want curdled inside, yet was suddenly halted. Her skin felt tender and sensitive, as if the minutest brush of almost anything would set off a rash of exploding goosebumps. She also suspected that the judging from the elevated warmth of her skin that her usually creamy skin was flushed pink, like the inside of a seashell. Even her hair follicles felt… _alive_ the moment she began touching her stone upon awakening. But most of all she was thankful that Hermione didn’t have a strong sense of smell or she’d be able to tell the sticky-warm juices dampening her panties; an indication of the slightly full reddened nub and swelling labia.

It was all… distracting. Fleur had many great passions; however none had truly awakened the Veela. Her Maman had despaired over her ever bonding her Veela, diminishing her power as a witch overall. But through her intelligence, discipline, and cleverness that lack of bonding never truly affected her skills as a witch, or as member of The Order. In addition her dueling and curse-breaking skills were some of the best within The Order. Shifting uncomfortably in place, she ran a hand through her silvery-blonde, and needlessly straightened her clothes.

They had a meeting to get to if they wanted to avoid more inquiries of their behavior. When Hermione stumbled over to her, holding out a hand to assist Fleur to her feet, they locked eyes. “Did ‘ou see them?”

Hermione was silent for a few moments, as if processing something, before she answered. “Yes.” She took a moment to gather her thoughts. “But I’m not sure we should tell anyone. At least not before we can figure out what this all means.”

Hermione’s visions included many of the same people, except her focus was on both the short-blonde and the sultry brunette wielding the impressive axe. She remembered her heart racing when she saw the blonde get stabbed from behind, the sword sticking out of her stomach. She remembered feeling anxious and exceedingly scared as the neverending, hideous creatures streamed out some kind of crater. How anyone could possibly make it out alive was beyond her? And the fact that these women and girls looked rather young, elicited feelings of commiseration—she, especially Harry, knew the feeling: being seemingly too young to save the world, but you had to or else.

Harry. She knew he was feeling hurt at her distance of late. But Hermione promised him that she would talk to him soon, because she suspected that he’d end up becoming involved with whatever was going with her and Fleur.

_She was sitting in the kitchen drinking her usual tea, researching information on the Slayer, when Harry walked in, grabbing one of the pastries made by Molly, and a butterbeer._

_“Hello Harry.”_

_“Hermione.” He waited a few beats before adding, “So what ‘ave you been up to? You’ve been… missed.”_

_Sighing, she closed the book she’d been perusing, patting the seat next to her, indicating that he join her, trying to find the words to explain her rather secretive behavior. “Harry… there’s been some things going on with me that… I’m not sure how to explain.”_

_Looking concerned, Harry placed his palm over one of her hands. “Are you all right? Is there something I or Ron can hel-“_

_“No, but if what I’m tentatively gathering is correct, we may have more help soon. The kind of help that could help turn things a bit in our favor.”_

_Frowning, Harry replied, “I’m not sure involving more people would be wise. Voldemort has no compunction about killing anyone who stands in his way. We’ve already…,” he was reminded of the most recent loss of Dobby, the House Elf and the being that saved them from Bellatrix, “lost so many already. Are we certain we want to chance more blood spilling?”_

_“I’m not certain of anything. But I do know that there are people who specialize in taking on dark forces that we haven’t considered or were aware we could utilize.”  Squeezing his hand in an affectionate and comforting gesture, she added, “I just need you to trust me.”_

_Harry solemnly looked at his best friend and answered in the only way he could. “Of course.”_

Following that was a series of late-night conversations with Fleur; Hermione’s respect for the Veela-Witch grew, forming a deep bond between the women. She had one run-in with Ron, who demanded to know why she’d been taking up so much of Fleur’s time, taking away that time from his brother Bill. Not to mention, he accused her of having no time to help Harry and him figure out the next course of action in terms of hunting down the next horcrux. While Hermione could admit to the first, the rest she considered malarkey-typical-self-centered-Ron thinking. And she let him know it in no uncertain terms, leading to a serious row that had Fleur and Harry intervening.

Since then, most of the Weasleys avoided or ignored Hermione except for Arthur, even Bill, who simply seemed more resigned and weary than anything else. This latest incident added faces and events to this puzzle, yet gave Hermione and Fleur their biggest lead yet. Then Fleur remembered something about the Slayer in either Luna’s paper the ** _Quibbler_** , or the more mainstream, **_Daily Prophet_**. No doubt it was Luna’s paper since it had a reputation for focusing on magical creatures. The Slayer was considered a ‘magical creature.’

It was these thoughts and others as she and Fleur made their way to the library. 


	13. Chapter 13

_6 Months Later, Scotland, New Watchers & Slayer’s Council_

Willow stood before a bank of windows, sipping her favorite caramel-mocha latte. A lot had happened since the collapse of Sunnydale. Not the least of which was the formation of the New Slayer & Watcher’s Council or The New Council. After finding a place to crash in LA until they figured things out, Willow spent most of the time sequestered with the Scoobies, the Clan, even Julia’s uncle John Constantine, and her mother, Angela stopped in to offer assistance. In fact, Giles offered both of Julia’s relatives permanent positions as Watchers. John simply scowled and claimed he only worked alone. However, once he considered his desire to keep Julia and her Gang out of trouble, he’d decided to be involved **only** on a limited consulting basis. Buffy and John in a room was a bit like mixing oil and water. Interesting enough, it was Faith who was the… calming influence between them.

They decided to give up Angel’s generosity as soon as possible because of his affiliation with Wolfram & Hart. Actually ‘affiliation’ was too mild a word for what he’d been up to and it made all of them uncomfortable. One can only ‘dance with the devil’ too long before he/it came to collect. While Angel insisted that what he was doing was for the greater good, Willow, knew that rather like war, enabling acts of evil, never adds up to the ‘greater good.’ So with their newly acquired Council funds, which were substantial, much to Buffy and Faith’s great displeasure – after all their years of struggling, struggling to keep Buffy’s home, struggling to feed themselves, living in shit motels, etc., to know that the old Council could have helped, had both of them stewing, and almost wishing Travers was still alive to place their boot-in-ass.

Along with the money, they now had properties all over the world. They decided to set up a training school in Cleveland because it was located on a rather weak Hellmouth. The school would be the introductory Slayer and Witch school. Newly found Slayers and Witches were sent there to learn the basics. Scotland would serve as their International Headquarters, with three satellite sites as back-ups in for political and spiritual centers: New York City as their political center, Lima, Peru was set up by Willow as their spiritual center, and Udaipur, India, known as the “the ‘Venice,’ long before Venice, Italy,” was steeped in ancient mystical energies and power. There some really powerful energy in Ethiopia, prompting an interest in setting up a satellite site, but the current political administration was starting to become… _uncertain_ (aka, dictatorial leadership on the horizon).

Scotland made sense because the property had already been established, was large enough to house everything from a Slayer-sized army to a research facility, it could provide room for anything from weapons to autopsies, a serious space for an impressive library, an armory, classrooms, offices, magic labs, medical facilities, even a greenhouse to grow plants for spells – mostly, (Giles was ** _still_** trying to find who planted the cannabis). They even had decent to plush living spaces, an essential for the Scoobies who’ve had to live (and fight) in challenging conditions. It also had a huge cavernous room, perfect for the Slayer that needed to burn off some energy or train a bunch of Slayerettes (as Faith had dubbed the recently Called Slayers). There was also a huge room for Willow and her witches.

However, right at the moment Willow was fighting feelings of urgency and anxiety. Her connection to the blonde woman had been steadily increasing ever since the Sunnydale Spell. A spell that increased Willow’s powers to such an extent that the Devonshire Coven hinted at the need for further training because she may be the embodiment of a Goddess. Powers that indicated Willow as being one of the most powerful Witches in the world. Since that battle, she had moments where it felt as if her metaphysical body would zip across large distances to ‘stand’ in front of a long, blonde-haired woman, her body lithe and toned, ample breasts that made Willow’s palms itch to touch. Skin, that looked as if it had been dipped in heavy cream, along with long legs that were shapely and toned like a dancer. But it was her eyes that held Willow captivated. They were startling beautiful; a silvery-blue that could turn dark, with flecks of gold in moments of intense emotion.

Sometimes she appeared with other people; most notably a brown-haired woman, whose hair had been recently cut into sleek pixie cut. Her delicate features were enhanced by fierce, chocolate-colored eyes that spoke of world-weariness, and a hint of cynicism. The story told within those eyes suggested battles fought, perhaps even shed some blood, or lost a friend, and somehow came out maybe not whole, but at least sane and alive. The blonde-haired woman had the same look in those silvery-blues. It gave her a depth to her almost too-pretty looks that seemed to only enhance, deepen her good looks so that they seemed less ethereal, more… _real_.

Sometimes Willow wondered what she’d look like on black, silk sheets, or even more daring, red-silk sheets while wrapped around Julia. Actually it wasn’t that daring since it appeared that Julia and the red-head shared the same visions of the same woman. She’d never used, much less considered silk sheets until she had a rather… provocative conversation with Julia. They both found themselves awake, snacking on ice cream in the kitchen, after being awashed with images of this woman (and others).

“So… what do you think, Sugar?” They had both acknowledged shared… experiences during the Hellmouth Spell.

In fact, at least Willow acknowledged that her attraction to Julia seemed more profound; at first it had been a superficial sort of attraction, with Julia swaggering, boldly flirting in order to elicit a blush from Willow, occasional moments of catching the other undressing them with their eyes. But now, Willow… felt possessive, at times even feral in her want of Julia. There were times where she didn’t even _feel_  like herself because she’d never experienced anything like these sensations.

With Tara, their love was profoundly deep, but… gentle. It wasn’t that they didn’t have their passionate moments, they certainly did. But with Julia she suspected theirs would different; edgier and needier passion. When she wasn’t busy with Council business, she spent a good portion of her time doing meditative exercises for not just her substantial power increase, but because she found herself wanting to use that power every time someone stared at Julia for a moment too long, or that time they all went to the local bar, predictably someone hit on Julia, and it was all Willow could do to not immolate them on the spot.

What was humiliating was _knowing_ that Julia knew all this; because of the Bond, they could sense the other’s emotions. It was like they’d been emotionally linked together. So far, only Giles and Agatha, Head of the Devonshire Coven knew what was happening between them and other unknown persons, as well as the resulting Bond between Willow and Julia. Of course, it has given Julia all kinds of license for a familiarity that would normally make the witch uncomfortable. But ‘New Willow’ seemed to… process things differently these days – even Julia’s ridiculous nickname for Willow, **Sugar**  which returned the red-head from her musings to the present discussion.

Willow had long ago given up on Julia not using that nickname. And if she were honest with herself it intrigued her alter-ego just a tad. Sighing she responded. “Honestly, I’m not sure. But then you’re not asking me to be sure, because if you wanted me to be sure you’d ask something like, ‘what is it--,”

Julia chuckled affectionately, before laying a warm palm on Willow’s knee, making the red-head pause. “Breathe darlin.’ So perhaps we should do some research?”

The red-head jumped up, excited because naturally she’d already been researching. “I think she’s a witch.” She frowned, “But I don’t think she’s a me-kind of witch.” Willow remembered the pointy stick that never seemed to be far from the woman or her brown-haired friend’s side.

Julia was being reminded of why she found the red-head so enchanting from the get-go. And her feelings of admiration had grown, especially since the Sunnydale Battle and Los Angeles, when Willow told her about Tara and her subsequent fall from grace after her lover’s murder. Knowing that Willow carried that burden, understanding that Willow constantly struggled to keep the Darkness away, only endeared her to Julia even more. It also made her want to help carry that load. It appeared her wish had been granted.


	14. Chapter 14

At the other end of the castle, high on the rooftop, the last of the Chosen Slayers, Buffy and Faith sat overlooking the grounds of their new digs, while sharing a six-pack between them.

“So B, what do ya think?”

Sighing, Buffy was reminded why she hated cryptic and mysterious. “I don’t know Faith. I think we should talk with…maybe Will? At least, to possibly avoid going to Giles. Not yet anyways.”

They kept seeing the same people over and over again, along with images of dark-robbed figures with twisted masks pointing a stick at them. In particular, they noticed the brown-haired woman standing with a young man with glasses with a wicked-looking scar on his forehead, a red-headed male that could have been a dead ringer for a relative of Willow’s, and a beautiful blonde-haired woman who appeared often, even more than the two young men.

But it was the brunette that held their fascination. At first it seemed as if only Buffy was receiving these messages, but that was soon dismissed when she saw an image of Faith standing protectively in front of this woman, brandishing her Scythe, while Buffy fought close by. Luckily only Buffy and Faith shared the same Slayer-dreams, instead of sharing these dreams with all the Slayerettes. 

It’d also become clear that since settling down in Scotland, they’ve been hearing more about unusual occurrences in the streets involving… people with sticks, pointing spells at others. The Coven confirmed the existence of a Wizarding World, but that this world and theirs, in conjunction with the policies of the old Watcher’s Council, never mixed. As a result, the Coven knew very little about this world, but what they did know what that this world existed on every continent. Willow was more than peeved about this; chances are that the old Council probably had lots of information on them, but kept them under lock-and-key. Giles hoped that they might be able to retrieve or recover some of this lost information.

In the meantime, Buffy and Faith grew closer, as the shared visions about their brown-haired pixie continued to visit them in their dreams. Interesting to note was following a night of slaying, when the _H &Hs_ hit full-swing, the bubbling, angst-ridden connection between the two Chosen always had seemed clearer, crisp, in full Technicolor. Nothing had come of it yet simply because Buffy was still trying to wrap her mind around admitting that she’d always found her Sister-Slayer uber hot. Faith fought her own demons; she still questioned her worthiness and there was the matter of all the past… misdeeds between them. She wasn’t sure if the blonde had ever fully forgiven her.

So she butched up and tried again. “Buffy?”

Faith waited until she had her full attention. Buffy knew that whenever Faith used her full name, she was about to say something serious or heavy. Locking greenish-hazel eyes with coffee-colored ones, she waited, watching as Faith nervously picked at the beer label, until the blonde laid a warm, comforting hand on Faith’s.

Buffy grew alarmed as Faith’s eyes began to water, the woman turning away, hastily wiping away her tears. “I-I’m sorry, Buffy. I’m sorry for everything that happened back then.” She paused trying to stem the tide of hot press of emotions crawling up her throat. “I ain’t gonna give excuses, cause there ain’t none. I know this may be asking for too much, but… but if you could find your way to forgivin’ me someday, I’d appreciate it.”

For long, agonizing moments (for Faith) Buffy remained quiet. “I forgave you a long time ago, Faith.” She gently tugged the now weeping Slayer into her arms. “Besides how we gonna find our pixie-haired minx if we can’t forgive each other?”


	15. Chapter 15

Willow was currently standing near what was supposed to be the entrance to London’s Wizarding World. Along with her were Julia, Zoe, Kim, Abernathy, Buffy, and Faith. Dawn begged to come but what they’d been gathering about the current environment alarmed them; an actual… war going on, increasing the chances of Dawn getting kidnapped. And Dawn falling into the wrong hands would be very bad. So they were going to determine **_who_** were the two sides, and more importantly, which sides should the Council assist, if necessary. The Chosen Slayers had determined that there was no way they were going to allow not only one of their most powerful weapons to walk into a potentially dicey situation, but considering she was one of their treasured BFFs and a Scooby, and sister (adopted or otherwise), there was no way they’d chance Dawn getting kidnapped. As for Julia, ever since that moment back in Los Angeles, her connection to Willow had deepened.

While nothing had yet to happen, not even an open acknowledgement of their mutual attraction—which seemed too mild a word for what constantly simmered underneath Julia’s skin, she felt… possessive of the witch, and the urge to Mark the red-head as hers, grew stronger every day. They all carried weapons (Willow was a weapon), except the Coven was able to do a ‘Concealment Spell’ that hid both Faith and Buffy’s Scythes, Julia’s sword, Zoe’s machete, Abernathy’s sais, while Kim simply slipped her guns in her shoulder holster underneath her leather jacket. Willow carried a set of daggers, but those too were slipped into a set of specially-made holsters from Xander.

Abernathy stood next to Willow reading from a slip of paper. Frowning she tried to figure out which of the three buildings they were looking for was the **_Leaky Cauldron_**. “Let’s see… apparently it’s here, in between a book shop and music store. I think this is it.”

Willow had already lifted a hand, feeling the magic bleeding out towards her like a beacon call and suddenly the building seemed clearer, and there stood the Leaky Cauldron. “This is it!” she exclaimed excitedly.

The thought of seeing a world filled with other witches was beyond exciting for her. Suddenly two men; one burly and the other lanky, wearing dark robes, appeared, and began shouldering past them. “Move out of the way you bloody, filthy Mudbloods!”

But their intent was immediately halted by Faith’s hand around the neck of the lanky one, lifting him off the ground. “You might wanna watch where you’re goin.’ Push one of us again and you’ll find your face pushed into that wall.” Faith growled menacingly.

“Yeah, and who you callin’ mudblood?!” Kim shared a bewildered look with her comrades, shrugging in askance at her friends and Clan, and simply chalked it up to some kind of insult. But when they’d taken their eyes off of them, one of them managed to palm his wand and started to point it at one of them.

However, it was Willow who saw this, eyes widened, knowing nothing good could come from that pointy stick, made a motion with her hand, chanted, “Thicken.”

The man’s eyes did some widening of his own once he realized that he couldn’t move, but by then it was too late. Another woman, the shorter blonde plucked his wand from his hand, handed it over to the red-head, right when his world went dark, from a punch at his temple from the tall, wavy-haired woman. The other male, had already been restrained by Faith, as Zoe began searching to see if he had any weapons, such as another pointy stick.

Carefully examining the stick, Willow could only marvel, “Cliché much?” Yet she was fascinated. _All that’s left would be witches flying on brooms_ , she thought with some sarcastic amusement. Instead she halted Kim from pistol-whipping him into unconsciousness, stepping closer to the now scared burly male. “What is this?” indicating the pointy-stick. “And what the heck is a mudblood?!”

He just stared in awe at her. “You’re a witch! But you have no wand?! How is that possible?!”

“Hold him still Faith, we need some answers,” she instructed. Julia stood protectively nearby. She never knew with magic, even though the red-head was powerful, whatever magic this guy practices is different, and there may be a reaction from Willow. Mostly she just wanted to keep a watchful-eye on her red-head. She watched as Willow chanted a few words, laid her palm on his forehead, ignoring his futile struggles, as she started to sift through his mind.

Minutes, what felt like hours allowed Willow to see a world that had they almost ventured into, and realized that they might have been slightly ill-prepared for. Pale and shaky, but the burn of rage and horror began to run through her, quickly steadying her. Her skin becoming flushed with the brilliance of her indignation, Willow began to explain. “Apparently, the ‘good guys’ have been overrun by Hitler-esque creeps. Led by the biggest creep of all, some… guy name Moldyshorts? Voldy-something? People are being tortured and killed, to be replaced by those with…”

She kicked the frightened male, “What was the ‘word?’” When the guy continued to look stupid and frightened, she clarified. “The ‘word’ for people who are… desirables,” she sneeringly demanded.

“Y-you mean purebloods?” he warbled.

Abernathy gave a snort while rolling her eyes, “Are you serious?!”

With a sigh, Willow waved another spell over the male to knock him unconscious. “I wish this was laughable, but from the sheer amount of terror and horribleness, it’s not even close to being funny. I think we need a change of plans.”

Nodding, Buffy chimed in. “Will’s right. There’s people that will need our help and I’m thinkin’ the whole Council-kinda help.” She returned her attention to Willow. “Do we know anything about the good guys?”

Willow gave mental pout, knowing they had to delay their entry into the Wizarding World for a few days. “Not yet, only names like Harry Potter or Dumbledee? Or was it Dumbledo?... no I think it was Dumbledorf.”

“Well, I think we need to ‘ave some unexpected guests,” Zoe pointed towards the two unconscious men.

“I believe you’re right. We need more answers and it looks like these guys might be able to fill in those blanks. Besides I think Xan’s about finished with those tricked-out cells, we can toss em’ in there when we’re finished, so they can’t warn anyone.” Mostly Julia was trying to curb her instincts to plant a deep, soul-worthy kiss on Sugar. Which is what happens whenever Willow lets her Alpha-Bitch come out to play. 


	16. Chapter 16

The following three days were a revelation for the Scoobies, the Clan, and the Council in general. They even had Uncle John and Angela on video-conference to debrief what was quickly growing into a full-scale operation. They were calling it: Operation Save the Wands (they’re still working on it); which would essentially liberate Wizarding World’s ‘good guys,' who they’ve learned was called the Order of the Phoenix, from Voldy-Wart & the Death Eaters – which sounded like a crappy Indie band.

The sense of urgency was felt even more by Willow and Julia for their blonde-haired friend, whom they learned was named Fleur Delacour. Sometimes a name is given Power, like Harry Potter. In this case, that name was given Power because it became the intense focus of two powerful women who felt the echo of a call out to their now known missing part of their trio – Fleur. The moment her name was whispered across berry-pink or full lips, it was like a something had been unlocked. Something that had been rattling against the cages to be let out and now it sprang free. For a moment, the urge to celebrate that _freedom_ through unadulterated joyous laughter was strong, but that grin turned fierce as the want settled deep to coalesce with the burning need that had been steadily building since the Hellmouth Spell, if not before it. Julia remembered, her hands reflexively clenched tight, nails digging into her palms, as a muscle bunched in her cheek, as that pool of need threatened her control. What she also wanted, Willow, was yes, within the building, but they had a battle to prepare for, a… dare she say it? A potential Mate to save. Julia knew she could at least alleviate it via her usual methods: a toy, fingers and hands, even with her Clan members, but she didn’t think she’d be… _safe_.

She frowned, because she couldn’t really explain these instincts. Her need was feral, which wasn’t uncommon as her Clan will attest to, but it was also something else, something wild and unfiltered, something that she instinctively knew could only be accepted by Willow, her Sugar, and now Fleur. Judging from the pulse of mirrored lust coming through the Bond, the feelings were mutual. She bent over, her hands unclenching to grab the edge of the desk, allowing the wood to dig into her palms, chafing the raw nail impressions, the pain helped to clear her haze a little. But not enough.  A growl rumbled forth from her chest, her breasts grew heavy, and her nipples were so hard they grew tender as they chafed against her t-shirt. Her stomach knotted and clenched as the heat thrummed through her core, her thong was completely ruined as her nether lips and slightly grasping, wet hole, actually quivered in anticipation of relief. She felt as if she moved or even if air brushed across it, her clit would erupt in a twitching display of an orgasm.

Even her skin rippled as Ari became agitated, but not in annoyance; as in if her Pet was going into heat. _Christ! As if she didn’t have enough to deal with!_ Perhaps she could get one of the Coven Witches to do a spell to calm her? She had to do something or else **nothing** would stop her from going to Willow. It wasn’t time yet.

**

Willow found herself accidentally breaking the beaker of ingredients she planned to use for a spell as her fist involuntarily clenched, a name was happily sighed, the name of the nameless blonde: _Fleur_. She became awash in sensations, the ‘happy’ kind. She thought it might stop there – a simple pulse of want that would quietly simmer for a few moments. Not even close. She lifted an elegant hand to her chest, trying to calm her thundering heart. Her skin cells felt alight with sensation, as if she’d taken a bath in sunshine and mint. Accessing her growing Bond with Julia, she could almost _see_ her contentedly stretching, gorgeously nude, fecund, like a big cat who’d been sunning herself. Her skin glowed copper-bronze and slightly damp with sweat, was now awakening. She also knew she hadn’t been sleeping. Willow knew without looking into a mirror that she was blushing, a full-body flush; the heat swept through her, low in her abdomen up to spread out along her breasts, hardening her nipples, warming her cheeks.

Willow could almost smell Julia’s distinctive scent; a combination of sandalwood and earthy goodness. And something else, something tangy, sweet, and slightly salty. Willow knew that if she closed her eyes, she could almost envision Julia’s long fingers sliding into her heated flesh. The red-head wondered if her curls were perfectly coifed, or did she have as Faith would say a “landing strip?” Or… Willow swallowed thickly as a vision flitted across her mind, was she completely bare? Would her skin be smooth and silky as the rest of her gleaming, nut-brown skin? Before she could continue that train of thought, another woman flitted through her lustful thoughts.

Silvery-blonde hair piled high on top of her head, deceptively delicate shoulders, muscles bunched as she moved her arms, full, heavy breasts, capped with light-pink nipples, creamy skin flushed pink and wet. Apparently, Willow caught her (Fleur) in a bath. The red-head hungrily watched as a sleekly-muscled thigh lifted from the water, straight up, as if she were executing a classical-dance move, randomly decorated with groups of thick bubbles. Full pink lips, perfectly-manicured dark-blonde eyebrows that only seemed to enhance her stunning bluish-gray eyes.

Eyes, that seemed to be shockingly, staring back at Willow in surprise. Immediately Willow found herself jerking her head back, as if she’d been caught being a voyeur. Although, if she were honest with herself - she was totally a voyeur. Especially when it came to those two women; they were **very** watch-worthy. 


	17. Chapter 17

Kierra shivered, huddled in her temporary hiding place behind the dumpster. Her breathing laborious and loud, hoping against hope that one of them will come save her. She was in a bad way, she’d been lucky to escape, barely walking, excruciating pain wracking her body. But judging from the dark-red colored blood pouring out from her side, that last curse nicked an important organ. She tried, she really tried, but there were too many, they appeared out of nowhere, like Miss Willow can do. A tear make its track down her battered and bleeding face, stung the cuts, enforced how quickly time was running out. She didn’t want to die, but she didn’t think she had a choice, and judging by the proximity of the mocking taunts coming from down the alley. They were getting closer.

“Come out, come out little Muggle.” or “We can smell your dirty mud-blood from here.”

If **_only_** her cell phone hadn’t been destroyed during the initial the chase over rooftops. If **_only_** she hadn’t snuck off to go visit her Mum’s grave, while getting a few slays in the process. If **_only_** she followed protocol about Baby-Slayers minding the curfew, (at the tender age of 11, Kierra was a Baby Slayer). If **_only_** she’d taken Mr. Xander up on his Gears of War video game, X-Box 360 challenge.

If **_only_** Miss Willow had a chance to stop in, like usual, asking Kierra to help with a potion, because she knew Kierra most times had a hard time falling asleep. Sometimes it was Miss Faith – both older women had an admitted soft-spot for the orphan-turned-Slayer-turned-family member because a) she was small and “delicate” like Buffy, but way cuter (exclaimed Dawn), and b) had been found wasting away in a crappy foster-family situation. If only, she’d snuck in to watch bad horror flicks and eat junk food with Abernathy; Kierra and Abernathy discovered their mutual amusement of really bad horror flicks… well that and Kierra’s small crush on Abernathy.

All of this and more briefly ran through her mind, followed by a slight sensation of glee. When her family found out about this, these tossers are gonna be in so much trouble. She wished she could be around to watch it unfold. But at that moment the dark, ominous shadows indicated her pursuers were getting closer. If only she could get her shattered shoulder and broken fingers to help put up a better defense without blacking out from the pain.

**

Faith bounded into the kitchen, looking for someone. Not finding her, but finding Zoe, and one of their many younger Witches balancing a bunch of snacks and drinks.

“Hey, any of you seen Scamp?” asked Faith. ‘Scamp’ was the nickname dubbed by Faith for Kierra and seemed to fit the young, baby-faced Baby Slayer that snuck her way into almost everyone’s heart. 

Zoe shook her head. “No, I hadn’t seen her about. I figured she was out with one you.”

But Faith was already feeling an icy knot of dread roiling through her stomach. It never took this long to find Kierra; she even went by the kid’s mother’s grave. She knew about her nocturnal visits to the grave and left standing-orders that a couple of Slayerettes always followed at a discreet distance. Sometimes, Faith or one of the Scoobies, or a member of the Clan followed—no way would they allow an untrained Slayer to be out at night by themselves, especially not Scamp. Faith quickly found her way to Buffy’s room, startling her from painting her toenails.

“Faith! What the f—“

“Scamp is missing. And I gotta bad feeling.” Silence met her announcements before Buffy became ‘General Buffy.’ She grabbed her cell phone and called Willow first.

“Will, Scamp is missing and we think it’s something bad.” She waited a few moments, as she instructed them to meet up in Willow's lab, while she attempted to magically locate the girl. Buffy passed on the info to Faith as she grabbed up of couple lethal-looking knives and her Scythe.

“Need to make a pit-stop by your room?” They were already moving down the hall, running into Abernathy along the way.

She took one look at their faces. “What’s wrong? Have you seen Scamp?” When she saw darkness flicker through their eyes, a growl rumbling through their chests, alerting her to their awakening Slayer, she knew. “I’ll alert the Clan.”

They all stood around Willow as she casted and chanted a Location-spell. The tension in the room had sharply increased when Willow looked had reviewed her special Magical-GPS tracker map, allowing her to assess the general well-being of each Council member. Kierra’s had begun fading, indicating a dwindling life-force, and Willow knew with a certainty she wished she didn’t feel, that they only had moments to find her. The Scoobies, including Dawn (despite the heated argument from her over-protective sister), the Clan, a couple of Willow’s Witches named Pendar and Roane, along with Vi, Rona, Satsu, made up the emergency Search-and-Find-Scamp group.

When the yellow smoke cleared, Willow peered at the map. “Got it. In the industrial area, near Stratford.” 

Everyone quickly prepared for the teleportation, as Benji, another Witch sprinkled something else around the ceremonial Circle they were now in, followed by a movement of her hand, as well as a few specific phrases, and with a ‘poof’ the search party disappeared.

When they landed, the Slayers and Julia could immediately smell that coppery-tang of blood. Sharing a look they lifted their noses, their movements almost animalistic, scenting the air to access which direction the smell was coming from. Julia found the trail first.

Pointing west to a set of large, industrial buildings, she spoke, “That way.”

Xander handed out ear-pieces, along slim bracelets with mics. “I figured we might need all the magical reserves we can get, so I brought these beauts along. We’ll be able to stay in touch up from pretty long distances.”

They began jogging towards the buildings, following Buffy, Faith, and Julia who were in total hunting-mode, knives at the ready. When they heard a sharp cry, they all shared looks and began to sprint. What they saw stopped them cold. Black-robed figures surrounded a bruised and battered Kierra. One had their hand gripping her blood-stained hair tightly, as another stood in front raising his foot for a kick. That was all the Hunters needed, the Search-and-Find group, now became Search-and-Destroy.

Julia let out a roar, Willow’s hair sifted from red-to-white-to-black and back to red again, as she lifted her hands to cast.

 _Thicken_.

Suddenly the robed figures were finding it hard to move. But that was the least of their worries as they suddenly found themselves fighting for their lives. Roane casted a spell for Kierra, levitating her, and carefully bringing her towards them as the others began fighting the now freed opponents. She shared a look with her fellow witch, Pendar who shook his head when the saw the extent of Kierra’s injuries before he began to triage. Luckily Pendar was one of Willow’s best healers. Hopefully he'll be able to do enough until they could get the kid some proper medical help. 

When one of the robed figures pointed his stick at Buffy and yelled **_Crucio_** , it caught her in the left shoulder, momentarily stopped her in her tracks, as the pain, like a thousand needles dragging into her skin, flowed down her arm and upper back. But the Slayer grew enraged. _Seeing_ Kierra’s battered, almost lifeless body, dissipated the spell, the pain began to diminish, causing the wizard’s eyes who casted it, to widen in surprise and fear. But by then Zoe had shoved a knife in the back of his neck, killing him. Buffy growled at her, the Kill had been taken from her! It was her Right!

Zoe held up her hands in supplication. “All right, mate. The next one’s yours, I promise.”

Even though Ari was letting her know in no uncertain terms that she wanted to be let loose, she could feel her claws dragging along the inside of her skin. Its memories of the child was fond, It had accepted her as part of the Clan. _I know Ari, I know you wanna be let out. But there’s no time. But I promise you that a good and proper fight is in the near future. These people have declared war on the Clan and the Council, our family, so we’ll have to give them a proper beat down._ But this internal conflict didn’t stop her from clothes-lining one wizards and as he almost flipped on his head, she helped him along by grabbing him around his thighs, turning him fully upside down, lifting him and then shoving his head into the ground. The satisfying crunch of his neck signaled the demise of her opponent.

Willow saw one of the robed figures point his wand at Faith’s back. She waved her hand; his wand flew out of his hand and into hers. The action diverted his attention away from the Dark Slayer onto Willow. “Looking for this?”

But by then a Slayer-powered punch crushed his jaw, twisting his head so violently that it almost snapped his neck. Not this time. It was the next hit that did it; Faith delivered an upper-cut so powerful that it lifted him off his feet, separating his head from the rest of his spine, instantly paralyzing him. Faith had thought about pulling out her weapons but decided against it for two reasons: 1) the rage she felt at seeing what they did to Scamp needed to be settled, and 2) she wanted them to know that not only will they die at a _Muggle’_ s hands, but that they’ll die with no special weapons involved, other than at her “dirty, Muggle” hands.

Xander kept watch over Willow’s witches as they worked on Kierra and for more possible evil-wizards popping up. Rona, Vi, and Dawn were busy trading blows with the remaining group, but Dawn was making sure to ‘save’ at least one of them. They’ll need answers later; if left up to the Buffy, Faith, the Clan, even Willow, there’d be nothing left of these guys, and no direction of where to truly direct their wrath. War had been declared, now they needed to suss out who were the enemies. Although judging by the information they received from those two wizards they’d recently captured, Dawn had an idea.

When the dust finally cleared, there was only one evil wizard weakly crawling towards his fallen wand. He didn’t notice the absolute silence, only his pain of several broken ribs, mangled left hand – his wand hand, the blood pouring from his broken nose, the kneecap that was no longer ‘capping’ his knee but had been completely and utterly shattered under the steel-toe boots of Dawn Summers. Buffy walked over stepped on his hand, causing him to scream as that too was crushed, while she gripped his hair to jerk his head back.

She mockingly shook her finger at him. “Uh-uh-uh. No more stick-magic for you. In fact, where you’re going, not much of anything for you. Except talking.”

He tried, he really tried to be defiant, but as he stared into those cold, icy-golden eyes, he realized that Death was staring back at him. “Don’t worry we’ll help you.” she leaned in close to say menacingly, “I promise.”


	18. Chapter 18

Buffy, Faith, Willow, Abernathy, Xander, Dawn, and Julia stood around the bed or sat in a chair close-by, watching, hoping that Kierra would live. The mop of dark curls were now clean of blood and filth. But she was in a coma, her unnaturally pale complexion making the smattering of freckles on her nose and cheeks stand out in relief. The cuts and bruises were mostly gone, but some still remained, marring the baby-face.

Abernathy quietly spoke up, breaking the silence. “So is Giles getting info from our evil wizard?”

No one answered for a few moments until Xander responded. “I think it’s safe to say that the evil wizard is currently meeting with the **_Ripper_**.”

Willow was busy sending healing energy into the kid, her open palms inches from the dark-haired girl’s stomach, near Kierra’s kidney, while trying to fight her various aches and pains. The Witch knew that she wouldn’t be able to ignore her own exhaustion and fatigue for much longer, she could feel Julia’s increasing anxiety and worry over the red-head. It wouldn’t be long before Julia would attempt to drag Willow from the room to shower, get fed, and then sleep. In addition, Julia wasn’t the only person she was feeling these sensations from: _Fleur_.

She knew almost next to nothing about the woman except that she was gorgeous, was often surrounded by various red-heads, including a tall, red-headed male with claw marks along his cheek. Sometimes she'd see another male with a mop of messy dark hair, vivid green eyes that always seemed to be framed by a pair of glasses. There were other people, LOTS of dark clothing (very depressing). An older woman whose graying hair was always tied up into a smart bun, a taller, older male, pale, with shaggy brown hair, and a set of claw marks of his own. A few times there were images of another woman, whose hair was an interesting cotton-candy pink, or a light-blonde young woman, with big, innocent-looking blue eyesr. Then there was another young woman, hair cut into a sleek, pixie-cut, giving her a sophisticated, yet cute-sexy look. This woman appeared to be Fleur’s confidante.

According to Buffy and Faith, they admitted to experiencing a similar Bond with this woman as they did with Fleur. Willow wouldn’t have known except that Julia, Faith, and Buffy went into some kind of trance on their way back from saving Kierra. It only lasted for a few moments, but apparently the experience told her two things: first, that apparently Julia and Willow weren’t the only ones who seemingly found themselves mystically Bonded. And second, given the latest images they ‘received’ were alarming enough to have significantly moved up their timetable regarding confronting the Wizarding world. The Council was officially entering the Wizarding War because good people were being rounded-up, tortured, and then killed, all for some jerk named Waldy-Morts.

Any further thoughts were interrupted due to the arrival of a worried Julia stepping into the room. Running her eyes over the woman’s form, reminded Willow of her earlier predicament regarding her… _Bond._ They weren’t friends—well they were, but not the kind of Buffy/Xander-friend that made watching action-flicks, pizza, and sleepovers comfortable. Julia inspired the more let’s spar-and-then-get-naughty thoughts. Although, this is not to say that their evolving relationship didn’t have their tender, light-hearted moments. They did, and Julia gave great snuggles; there was nothing like a sleekly-muscled, smooth-skinned, womanly body wrapped around the red-head. The two times it happened made it very difficult to leave Julia’s arms, and judging from the reluctant release, ending with Julia lightly dragging her nails along Willow’s skin, the reluctant feeling of separation during those moments was equally felt on Julia’s part.

However, when Willow wasn’t feeling tender and emotive towards the darker woman, she was feeling… provocative? Because most times, she didn’t want to snuggle with Julia, most times she wanted to do _things_ to her and with her. Perhaps even incite Julia to do something(s) in return. Willow wondered at Julia’s reticence. It’s not that she didn’t want Julia to be considerate and allow Willow to process this growing… mutual attraction. But Willow was finding herself feeling an unusual amount of lusty-like feelings at the oddest and obvious moments. Like that time Julia, Faith, and her Clan were preparing to go clubbing, and Julia was wearing a buttery-soft, leather outfit that left a lot of gleaming mocha-bronze skin on display, while looking as if the outfit were painted on. Her bee-stung lips that rivaled Faith’s own impressive ones, were entirely kissable and wet-looking, with some kind of special lip-gloss, her thick, dark, wavy hair flowing down her neck and shoulders. Her unique copper-colored eyes accentuated with some expert use of make-up, no doubt compliments of Abernathy, the former make-up artist, added to her sultry sensuality, already natural, even more accentuated.

At that moment, Willow felt as if her world had narrowed down to one thing, one person. Everything else had faded into white. Her veins felt as if they had a dosing of adrenalin to accompany the intense rush that had her heart attempting thump its way out of her chest, along with arousal that caused her nipples to become rigid, her stomach to become knotted up, adding to the instant rush of juices dampening her panties. Even her hair follicles seemed to thrum with some kind of awareness towards Julia. And judging by the slow curl of her delectable, full lips, her gorgeous eyes became slightly lidded, the Reliquum knew the effect she was having on the red-head. Other times Julia would pass Willow either in a hallway or the stairwell and she’d make it a point to brush some delectable body part against Willow. Until that one time.

That one time when Willow had been making her way back to her set of rooms (all the Scoobies, Sunnydale-Battle Slayers, and the Clan got them), in the middle of the night, when Julia appeared from the end of the hall, heading in her direction. As usual, Willow felt her heart race and her veins pulse the closer the woman got. Even more so, as it appeared that Julia had been working-out. Sweat glistened along her collarbone, shoulders, and legs; her muscles stood out in stark relief from whatever activity she’d been doing, her hair dangled long, the ends dragging heavy from sweat, and her heavy breasts heaved from exertion. She was stunning and the closer they got, the more the intensity built, their eyes locked onto each other, as Julia came to a stop inches from Willow.

She gave a long, slow, perusal up and down Willow’s body, igniting never endings, making her clitoris twitch, increasing the band of tension that was knotting the red-head’s stomach, until she finally gave a small, sexy smile. At the smile, something inside Willow broke loose, suddenly making her lift her hands until they clasped the hot, sleekly muscled upper arms of Julia, and shoved her up against the wall. Those copper-colored eyes grew lidded, her pulse jumped, and her thighs started to slightly quiver in anticipation. Realizing what she was doing, she tried to find the words to explain or vent, even though she still had Julia pinned against the wall, their bodies pressed tightly against each other.

“What’s a matter Sugar?” She bent her head closer to Willow’s, almost touching her lips to the red-heads. “Cat got your tongue?”

Unfortunately, as Willow was reaching for the back of the darker woman’s head, Dawn had come barreling around the corner, interrupting their moment, causing Willow to ‘come back to herself;’ slightly horrified that she had gone all-Alpha on Julia. Julia simply smirked. It didn’t hide the tightening around her eyes; indicating her own sexual frustration.

But then that was Julia; at times sweet and attentive, other times fun, even adorable, and lots of times an uber-sexy, pheromones-inducing vixen. Willow wanted to have a full-disclosure, complete with snacks and movies with Buffy, but it seemed as though she was having… similar issues, with Faith and the pixie-haired woman. Added to all this, was their increasing issues with the Wizarding world. Given what happened to Scamp, the attempted earlier attacks by some evil wizards, the Scoobies and by extension The Council were in battle-mode, only they didn’t have someone, or something to expend this building energy. They had some ideas, but to go into an entirely new world without first preparing would lead to badness.

So they were waiting, researching, interrogating, and then there’ll be a call-to-arms. Until such a time, Willow, well basically everyone, were almost riding on razor’s edge, which could lead to all sorts of, as she slowly ran her green eyes over the sexy legs of Julia, interesting flare-ups.

“Willow, you have to know what I’m gonna say before I say it.” Prompting an eye-roll from the red-head as Julia expressed her concern in her own fashion.

Sighing, she finished sending the healing spell into Kierra and then stood straight, rolled the tension out of shoulders and neck, she tucked a lock of Kierra’s dark hair behind her ear, and then allowed Julia to usher her out of the room. Julia could see the smudge of darkness underneath Willow’s beautiful grass-green eyes, indicating her exhaustion. She felt her heart give a twinge; she’d become very protective over her future Mate. It made her wonder if Willow realized what their Bond truly meant. 


	19. Chapter 19

Julia, following a **very** uncomfortable discussion with her Uncle John, who then upon reviewing his own knowledge, plus consulting with a few of both his demon and guardian sources, confirmed Julia’s suspicions. Willow and possibly, this Fleur woman were her Mates. Among the increasingly potent attraction she had to the red-head and the rather steamy vision-quest-like-dreams she had of the blonde, or of the blonde and Willow, her ability to address her needs became more frustrating. Her Clan-Mates, could no longer provide this alleviation for her. In fact, when she was around them, buzzing with fierce arousal because of a moment with Willow or an erotic dream of Fleur, her skin, her breasts, became almost too sensitive, tender even, to their touch, that she had to pull away.

That moment when Willow had shoved, (she gave a mental shudder remembering that delicious moment) her against the wall, it almost seemed as if her skin reached out towards the red-head. It was that and another incident in the training room, Faith had been standing close, seemingly too familiar with Willow that it was a few moments before Julia realized that she was growling before she started across the cavernous room to deal with Faith. When she realized that that was what she was doing, she immediately changed directions and stalked out of the room, to her office, to place a call to her Uncle John.

Her nose ‘loved’ Willow; she could scent when she was angry, when she experienced fear, even when she upset. This ability along with the empathetic Bond to the witch, meant her body was specifically geared towards the red-head. And according to her Uncle John, was sending her into heat! So far, Fleur had only managed to strengthen her empathetic bond. One would think that given that Fleur appeared to be in the middle of a dangerous war, sex would be the last thing on her mind. But Julia knew that the Bond had a sort of ‘play-back’ feature, meaning if Willow or Julia or both were experiencing a moment of intense lust, Fleur would feel it too. In addition, the lust and desire felt through the Bond also incited something that felt very feral, almost animalistic inside the blonde. Willow and Julia speculated that it might be this **_Veela_** aspect of Fleur.

They hadn’t been able to find a great deal on the Veela. They believed they might be able to gather some information via their interrogation of their “guest.” but apparently even within the Wizarding world, the species was very private. Oftentimes, any legal issues were handled via the Veela’s own representatives and they strongly believed in intermarriages with other Veelas. Exceptions are made, but they were frowned on, and not encouraged. Something told Julia that it was probably something similar to indigenous tribes or other groups who believed that in order to continue to enhance their line, they restricted mating to within the group.  At least that’s what they’ve gleaned from their evil-wizard-guests.

They’d also run into the problem of what to do with their prisoners. The Wizarding government, called the Ministry of Magic had been taken over by the nazi-like Voldemort supporters, so it was unlikely that the scumbags would receive any real punishment. However, Julia couldn’t wait to start cleaning house, because along with forming a concrete battle plans, Giles, Willow, and Dawn had met with the Prime Minister of Britain to smooth over any governmental or legal issues regarding them declaring their own war with Voldy. It also alerted the Muggle side of Britain that the Ministry weren't fully prepared, and in fact, had become an enabler of the baddies. As a result the British government's MI7 - the secret division within government that monitors the Wizarding world, were prompting their anti-terror division targeting Moldy's guys and a compromised Ministry of Magic. This also added to the general urgency of the situation. If her Uncle John was right and she was in heat, if Fleur’s Veela was reacting to the lust trickling down their Bond from Julia and Willow, if this has become such a distraction that it was creating an even more dangerous environment for the blonde, then all this meant that they needed to get into the Wizarding world yesterday, instead of waiting for all the diplomacy and research to be completed.

At the moment she stood leaning against one of her favorite trees, staring off into the countryside; an ancient thing, which ironically enough was a huge Willow tree. She felt a familiar presence before she scented her: Faith.

“Hey Jules. How goes it?” Faith shook out one of her cigarettes and lit up before speaking again. “You feelin’ pretty twitchy too?”

Julia shook her head, knowing exactly what Faith was referring to. “Yeah, it’s… drivin’ me insane, girl. I can’t… I can only pummel a goddamn punching bag before yet another one busts open on me.”

“Well at least you ain’t wearin’ out vibes like it’s the fuckin’ the end of the world. I got Babeland on speed dial!”

Julia chuckled at that. She had already tried that route – it only seemed to heighten things for her (and Willow and Fleur). “Any ideas on when we’re goin’ in?”

Faith blew a ring of smoke, watched it rise a little, before answering. “Oh yeah, I knew I came out here for something other than cause I needed to breathe. Looks like we’re gonna be getting’ the go-ahead within a couple o’ days. We’re havin’ a prep meeting at 7am sharp tomorrow.”

Sighing loudly, feeling the tension pull even tighter in anticipation of the Hunt, Julia realized she needed to do something before that meeting. “Finally! Keepin’ a lids on my ‘worldly wonders,’” she ran her hands along her torso and then curled her hands into fists, until she took up a fighter’s stance, “was like keepin’ a crack-head from a fired-up pipe!”

They both had a good chuckle at that before Julia spoke again. “Well then, I gotta head inside. Got somethin’ to take care of before tryin’ to catch some sleep. You good?” Julia motioned to their surroundings, indicating Faith’s safety at being left alone, outside, at night.

Faith scoffed, “After all the energy we’ve been tryin’ work out” in reference to everyone readying for battle (and her own Bond-Mating process), “let’s just say we’ve made quite an impression on the demon community. They ain’t comin’ through here if they ain’t got to.”

Snorting, Julia replied. “I bet. Remember that shit two nights ago?”

Following their rescue of Kierra, they’d been amped up on fury and vengeance, and they needed a way to expend some that energy. So most of the rescue party, minus the witches, who were attempting save and heal Kierra, and Xander, who was busy securing the prisoner, went patrolling that night. It wasn’t until 3:30 in the morning that they stumbled into HQ, covered in demon goo, blood – some of it their own, but most of it not, and general filth—compliments of sewer systems and graveyards. They must have cleared out at least three large vamp nests, one strong demon clan, and then a ‘cleaning’ of the local demon bar.

Julia agreed that was memorable. “Yeah, that was fun. Unfortunately we had a bit too much fun, which is why patrols have been a tad boring lately. Hopefully it’s because of that night and not in typical Scooby-fashion something more sinister.”

“Damn girl, you just had to say it! Now it’s guaranteed that the ‘quiet on the home-front’ is cause of something sinister headin’ our way.” Julia grimaced at Dark Slayer’s grievance, she really should have known better.

But she had a way of diverting Faith’s attention from Julia’s unfortunate pronouncement. “So I hear y’all got a Bonding issue of your own?”

Immediately Faith scowled. “You just had to bring that up! Aren’t you headin’ back inside?” 

 

****

 

Faith watched the lithe movements of Julia as she headed back inside for a few moments, before turning towards a little introspection of her own. It’d been rough-going lately. Between the attack on Kierra, the ratcheting up of the Slayer-dreams, Slayer-dreams she shared with B. Slayer-dreams that involved a sexy, pixie-haired woman who seemed both vulnerable and fiercely brave, with a bar of steel running down her spine. What Faith really wanted to do was run her fingers through hair the color of chocolate, with dashes of caramel, mahogany, and sand. She wanted to have the woman straddling her lap as Faith tasted her mouth.

She wanted to watch her being fondled by B, sometimes she wanted the woman watching her and Buffy giving into their more primal, Slayer-lust; naked, sweaty skin, muscles straining against the other, ‘playing’ a sexual game of dominance; the kind that can only be played between two of the oldest, most powerful Chosen Slayers. Faith worried that B would shut her out or that their history would insert itself into the relationship they’d been steadily building since Sunnydale. But aside from a few tense moments, they’ve managed to… work things through (translation: a serious sparring session or doing a heavy patrol).

Instead, they’d been… _talking_. Admittedly, not their strong suits, in fact, both took great strides to avoid any heavy talking. But since the Dreams, they’d noticed that their Slayer Bond had morphed into something even stronger, seemingly more tactile, at times she swore she could feel Buffy biting her nails as she worried over something, or even more memorable were the surprising bouts of insecurity and vulnerability—sensations Faith was well acquainted with. The pain of a solid right hook also clued Faith into B getting hit, no doubt on patrol, but the immediate rush of energy, endorphins, and carefully-controlled rage, signified that the blonde had let loose on whatever demon or baddie she encountered. However, Faith’s more… incendiary example of this ‘tactile bond’ happened a few nights ago. Little did she know that theirs wasn’t the only bond that had manifested itself in such a fashion.

 Then there was that time when B, was takin’ care of one the _Hs_ of _H- &-H_. Faith swore she could feel, small, callused fingers plucking her nipples, or sliding into the groves of her soaked cunt. By the time Buffy began touching herself, Faith would be soaked. She also knew that this occasional tactile Bond went both ways. Faith had to deal with her own _H-and-H_ , but she tended to be less…sedate, oftentimes simply needing to fuck, hard. So after a night of plunging three of her fingers into her wet, grasping hole, or shoving a butt-plug into her clenching rosebud, a vibrator on her quivering clit, sealed the deal. But it was the expression on Buffy’s face the following morning; darkly blushing, lidded eyes that seemed incapable of meeting Faith’s, that made the Dark Slayer wish that they were at a point where she could drag B somewhere and continue.

But this Bond had stretched like nebulous taffy to include their pixie-haired woman. A good and bad thing all things considered. Good because Faith had the sense that their woman hadn’t had too many occasions to connect with this part of her. Also it… firmed the Bond between them, making it richer, more intense. However, it was bad because the woman appeared to be one of the leading… warriors against that dickwad Moldy-Shorts, so distractions could be very dangerous. 


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beware! Hotness ahead...

Once again Willow found herself wandering. She hadn’t been able to get a decent night’s sleep, even if she didn’t need as much sleep as she used to. Like an emergency-room physician, her body had become used to sleeping when she could because Willow never knew when some kind of crisis or apocalypse would be around the corner. It also didn’t help that the ever-present simmering… arousal randomly pulsated throughout the day, occasionally stopping Willow in her tracks or causing her to lose her train of thought. She stopped wearing lacey bras and panties simply because they chafed her perpetually rigid nipples, or even snagged against the tip of her throbbing clit, or swollen labial lips.

The reason for all this was standing in front of her; or the partial reason. Willow’s wandering had found herself in one of the smaller training gyms that they’d set up for mostly Buffy and Faith, whenever they wanted some privacy during a work-out. The two Chosen Slayers tended to draw a crowd whenever they worked-out, particularly whenever they sparred. Most times they didn’t mind—while Buffy may not admit it, occasionally both loved the attention. However, now the room was occupied by Julia, wailing on a heavy-bag; sweat glistening, muscles standing out in stark relief, wearing only a sports-bra and snug-fitting short-shorts. Her hair lay strewn around her shoulders and face. Julia often said that learning how to fight without putting her hair up made her a better fighter—one didn’t always have time to put their hair up when some random evilness suddenly attacked.

Ari, her magical tattoo-fire-breathing-dragon that took up the whole of her back, added to the air of danger that sometimes emanated from the **Reliquum**. Her musings were interrupted when Julia’s voice rang out, even as she continued punching and kicking the heavy-bag. “Somethin’ I can help you with, Sugar?”

What Willow really wanted to ‘help’ her with was to lick that drop of sweat rolling down the middle of her back. “N-no. I couldn’t sleep.”

For a few moments Julia didn’t respond, simply kept punching, followed by a round-house kick, and more punching until she finally stopped, chest heaving, wrapping her arms around the violently swinging bag. Then she turned around, removing her gloves, and began to unwrap her hands. Starring at Willow intently… hungrily, with those unusual copper-colored eyes, Willow realized, as she slowly began to close the gap between them. “Perhaps I can help you with that.”

It was all Willow could do to not let loose the moan threatening to erupt from her throat. She knew her heart-rate had accelerated, her pulse pounded loud as if her blood had thickened, becoming sluggish as it churned through her veins. Willow knew Julia had heightened senses similar to Slayers, so she knew that the closer she got (and maybe not even then) the more likely she could… smell her _want_. When she saw the darker woman’s nose flare, and then Julia’s eyes narrowing on her hungrily, Willow knew she was inhaling her scent.

Julia knew the moment Willow entered the room. She shouldn’t have come —not if Willow planned on leaving without being ravished. The tantalizing natural scent of strawberries and something earthier was combined with something else. Something she was coming to learn, process, and allow to sink deep inside, within her cells so that Julia knew she’d be able to find Willow by scent anywhere: in a crowd or across a field.

“Well… I –I don’t want to interrupt anything. I’ll just leave you to it.” The red-head reluctantly began to turn towards the door, dragging her eyes from Julia, before her movement was halted by Julia’s warm hand grasping her forearm. Looking up in askance, Willow could only gasp.

Copper-colored eyes now glowing and lidded, Julia felt the constant thrum of arousal leap into something fiercer, savage even, so that she knew that the opportunity for Willow to escape had disappeared the moment she entered the room, and she took in her delicious scent. “You don’t think I’m gonna let you leave, do you?” Julia cooed.

If Willow could have described the sensation roiling through her, she’d say that it felt as if she’d been shaken up, stirred, and left exposed. Now panting heavily, Willow turned into Julia until she was almost pressed against the darker woman’s body. “I guess not.”

The time for waiting had expired. But they were missing something. As Willow laid her hands on Julia’s upper chest, slid them up until her fingers sifted into the wet strands at the base of Julia’s neck, until she practically cupped her head.

Bringing her own face closer to Julia, Willow whispered against her lips, “Allow me.” Julia’s eyes widened before understanding filled them. She nodded.

Then Willow whispered a verse and like something pulling taffy from their stomach, white smoke streamed from their abdomen to dance in the air for a moment. It then zipped around the room before dissipating. Julia huskily chuckled. “I hope Fleur enjoys this just as much as we’re about to.” With that, Julia smashed her full lips against Willow’s, her tongue lightly dancing against the red-head’s bottom lip, seeking entrance in the witch’s. Granted, her tongue darted inside, immediately mapping out Willow’s taste and texture. Her hands clutched Willow’s back, until the slid down over her lower back, and then settling in to cup the red-head’s bottom; fondling, squeezing, separating the globes and then starting the delightful process all over again, eliciting whimpers and moans from her Witch.

Willow’s fingers were now digging into Julia’s shoulders as she tried to get as close to the darker woman as possible, wishing to feel naked skin against naked skin. When her back met the nearest wall, Willow hadn’t even realized that they’d been moving. That didn’t stop her from raising a leg to wrap around Julia’s waist or Julia from gripping Willow’s other leg so that both legs were now wrapped firmly around her soon-to-be-lover’s waist. The need for oxygen finally separated their lips, allowing Julia to lave and suckle her way along Willow’s jaw. Each kiss, nibble, and lick drove the urgent need, creating a growing pool of wetness between the red-head’s legs, as her center rubbed against Julia’s naked, muscled abdomen.

Meanwhile Julia’s hands had been busy sliding themselves underneath the bottom of Willow’s t-shirt, smoothing along silky, creamy, flushed skin, up until she came to the underside of the red-head’s breasts. Reluctantly parting her lips from Willow’s delicious skin she slightly leaned back, allowing room for her move her hands to gently but confidently cup Willow’s heaving breasts, while drinking her cries of pleasure, as she strummed her thumbs over the witch’s straining nipples.

“Jules! Please!”

Since Willow had wandered from her bed, she was wearing hastily thrown-on clothes—this meant no bra… and no panties, which she suspected Julia was about to learn in just a moment. Since this… Bond started becoming more intense, Willow had found herself wearing less and less clothing to bed, most times going sky-clad. Who knew, perhaps she’d been hoping that Julia would sneak into her room and ravish her... _she really needed to stop reading that romance drivel that Rona reads_. But whatever thought she was going to have next was blanked from her mind when Julia’s long fingers began to gently and then firmly pluck, roll, twist, and tug her erect nipples, causing Willow to jerk and grind her pelvis against Julia’s stomach.

“You’re not wearing any underwear, you minx.” She started to roll Willow’s jogging pants down her hips.

But she became distracted by the heat and smell of the red-head’s arousal, making her mouth water. Once she was able to pull her pants down far enough, she hoisted the red-head further up against her torso, and as one hand gripped and fondled her bottom, the other slid into the wet curls, eliciting another deep moan from the Willow. She wished she could lay her out, so that she could see everything. But right now, Julia desperately wanted her fingers inside her witch. Wanting this since Sunnydale, it had only gotten worse.

“Ooohhh, you are so wet, mi amour. My fingers are practically soaked! Damn baby, you smell delicious, and I can’t wait to have a taste.” Tasting Willow’s bee-stung lips, tangling with the red-head’s tongue, drawing it back into her mouth, allowing her to suckle the muscle, while her fingers began tracing, lightly tugging, and then dipping into the clenching, wet hole.

Willow's head practically thumped against the wall when it seemed as if her neck couldn’t support her head, the sensations from Julia’s fingers whipped through her body making the need to cum became more urgent.

“Yes, please…,” swallowing, Willow tangled her hands in Julia’s hair, holding her head still, locked eyes with the darker woman, even as her fingers continued to tease and stroke her soft folds, circling her entrance.

Julia needed to taste; she pulled her fingers from between the red-head’s legs as she lifted her mouth from Willow’s neck, to slide her wet fingers inside, moaning at the indescribable taste.

Willow whimpered again as she watched her taste her fingers. “Mmmm, **definitely** finger-licking good!”

“Oh goddess!”

“Baby, can you take your shirt off for me? I want your nipples in my mouth,” she huskily instructed before leaning over to nibble on the red-head’s earlobe. She leaned back as Willow finally manage to unstuck her fingers from Julia’s shoulders to shakily grab the bottom of her shirt and lift it up over head.

Julia voraciously took in the high, perky breasts, creamy with a smattering of freckles, reddened, erect nipples, that stood tall and tantalizing, begging for Julia’s mouth. But Julia wanted her own naked skin against Willow’s. Luckily the room was lined with mats, so with that thought, still holding the red-head aloft, she stood tall and pivoted, walked to the center of the room, and then carefully kneeled with her precious cargo, and laid her down. Still kneeling she reached in back and unsnapped her bra, letting it fall before tossing it somewhere else. Willow’s eyes had darkened to a hunter-green, hungrily watched as Julia undressed before shimmying her pants off the rest of the way, after toeing off her sneakers.

When they both were finally sky-clad, both women took a few seconds to simply look and revel in the moment. Willow momentarily closed her eyes, accessing the Bond, feeling it swell and thicken, knowing that **_She_** was with them, feeling the sensations as if she were here, participating, kissing and touching.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beware! You might not want to read at work...

Little did they know that Fleur had been busy dodging _Crucio_ spells to get to an injured Hermione, before scooping up her friend to _Apparate_ back to the Order’s HQ. So by the time the Bond was activated she’d been patching up her friend. As she casted a healing spell over gash along Hermione’s arm, she gasped, barely containing a hard shudder. But she’d made enough of a disturbance to awaken the brunette witch.

“Fleur?” Hermione asked, even with the pain and exhaustion wracking her body from the wild break-in at **Gringott’s** for the horcrux in Bellatrix’s vault. She hoped that the dragon had been able to find its way back home. Its condition had been horrendous and had she any time, she would’ve done what she could to help heal it, or at the very least find a way to help it even more. As it was, falling off the beast into the frigid waters below, after escaping the goblins and Death Eaters, had her feeling pretty… fragile. Now to see that her friend had gone still, her eyes darkening, gold creeping along the edges of her irises indicated that the Veela was stirring, was a bit disconcerting.

But Fleur was in the grip of something profound; a ferocious desire that immediately heated her skin, and she knew that if she looked into a mirror she’d see a flush rapidly staining her alabaster skin. The desire grew, morphing into something she wasn’t sure she had the wherewithal to control. Her skin tightened, feeling as if it had become too hot to the touch, yet the roll of sweat crept down her spine, or dotted along her forehead. Her nipples became sensitive scrapping against her lacy bra, even as her stomach knotted up with the unusual tension. But it was her panties, instantly becoming soaked as impressions of what her two… _Mates(?)_ were up to danced in and out of her subconscious.

Mates; after consulting with her Mother, who grew more and more excited as Fleur tried to unobtrusively question her about the **_Veela_ ** and the Mating Bond, particularly as she let slip that the questions weren't about Bill. She also knew that Hermione was having her own… set of issues. Ever since they received the first letters, the magical stones seemingly connecting them to their respective Bond-mates, things had become interesting, and it made her wonder if Hermione’s Mates were aware of her being hurt. If it was anything like Fleur’s Bond, chances are they did.

She gave into shuddering when an image flashed of her red-headed Mate naked and undulating on her back, as her darker Mate her fondled and squeezed her lover’s breasts, while suckling on one of her nipples. Fleur watched as her mouth hollowed as she suckled, seeing a flash of white teeth, nibbling the reddened tip. Fleur enjoyed the way the muscles along the darker woman’s back bunched and moved, giving motion to the beautiful artwork that adorned her back. It seemed apropos that it was dragon. When the image faded out, it left the sensation of both something rubbery and firm in her mouth, and her nipple felt more sensitive, while her breasts felt heavy and full.

It was maddening and she thoroughly blamed them!

 _Them_ , were the entwined women; one light, one dark, perhaps a cliché, but the only term that could apply. Ironic when you consider that their personalities were so similar, with perhaps the red-head being the Darker of the two. Nevertheless, it was what made their Bond so strong; knowing and accepting these elements. However none of that mattered as Julia’s lips finally released their hold on the now almost purplish-reddened nipple, which her teeth had lightly clamped on at the tip, much to the intense pleasure of Willow. making her way down to the tantalizing scent that had taken up residence inside her senses, her fingers already finding themselves there.

Willow’s cries and gasps careened around the room as her back arched from having those wicked fingers comb through her curls, to circle her throbbing clit, lightly tickling her lips and rimming her hole, and then pressing her index finger inside. Meanwhile Julia's own arousal had her straddling Willow’s thigh, smearing her juices along Willow's skin as she tried to find some relief. Frenching Willow’s bellybutton, her hand coming up to momentarily fondle the red-head’s breast before moving down to hold Willow’s body down. Taking a long, languorous lick down to the edge of her Witch’s curls, inhaling the stronger scent, Julia shifted, her glowing copper eyes watched as she lightly traced her tongue through the thatch of curls until she came to the base of Willow’s clitoris.

She paused, waiting…

When Willow looked down all she could see was that mass of riotous curls and glowing copper eyes. “Please." She undulated, trying press those fingers inside her cunt and her clit into Julia’s mouth. “Julia…fuck… please!”

“Shhhh… don’t worry Sugar, I’m gonna take good care of you.” huskily vowed Julia. She continued to rock and press against Willow’s thigh. She was juicing so much that Willow could feel the warm tickle of girl-juice as it trickled down the sides of thigh.

Inhaling her scent, starting from her perineum to her pulsating clit, Julia lapped a long, slow lick, pausing only momentarily to dabble her tongue the pink, glistening, hole that had been spread open with her fingers before moving up to circle the reddened knot of quivering flesh. Willow practically threw her off as her body jerked and shifted, as the pleasure crashed through her.

Growling at the taste exploding on her tongue, Julia knew that she wasn’t going to let her red-headed witch wait much longer. Especially when her own lust had reached ferocious levels – if her own fingers weren’t busy stroking the swollen, protruding lips, or holding Willow in place by clutching onto the witch’s thigh, or toying with her shapely bottom, Julia might have already given into fingering her own sopping wet cunt. Then there was the Bond.

Julia could… feel _something_ else that needed to happen, something that would change them, connect them forever. She could feel it compelling her to make the _Claim_ , but she felt certain that it shouldn’t happen tonight, not without Fleur. Dabbling her tongue along her swollen labial lips, before pressing the tip inside the hot, twitching cunt, moaning at the tangy, sweet taste, “Do you feel it? It’s like callin’ me in a big way, baby. But we can’t. Not yet. First, we gotta get our other witch.”

Willow understood. Combing her fingers through the darker woman’s hair, she nodded, as she tried to gather moisture in her mouth to speak. Hoarsely she responded, “Y-yesss.” She moaned as Julia speared her tongue inside her grasping channel, “Goddess! Not yet,” her voice ended on a cry as Julia’s tongue curled, massaged, and seemingly thickened inside her honey-walls.

Elsewhere in Slayer HQ, another heated exchange was occurring. The blonde had the darker woman pinned on the bed, as her fingers slammed themselves in and out of her throbbing wet cunt. Three fingers, knuckle-deep, stretching her some, cum spilling out around Buffy’s fingers. But it wasn’t enough, not enough to appease the Slayer, not enough to envelope their pixie-haired witch, whom they could feel through their Bond was in pain and scared. Leaning back a little, Buffy looked down at her partner, Sister-Slayer, sweat dotted along her heaving breasts.

Panting, loving the feel of Faith stretched around her fingers, inhaling the delicious scent of her arousal, she proceeded to bring her pinkie finger in to join with the three thrusting fingers that were now teasingly circling her entrance. “You sure, Faithy?”

“B, fuck! Yeah, do it! Whadda ya waitin’ for?!”

With a lusty grin, Buffy brought all four fingers together, inserting them slowly, oh so slowly, the cum practically pouring out of the Dark Slayer, rolling and twisting her wrist to stretch the grasping honey-walls, leaving the quivering and enlarged knot of flesh above untouched, before pulling out to tuck her thumb in forming fist, and then gently, slowly work her whole hand inside Faith. it was an intense moment for both of them; for Faith because she’d never felt so full, or so stretched, and knowing it was Buffy that was causing this sensation, connecting them in way Faith had never experienced was almost spiritual. For Buffy, watching her entire hand disappear inside of Faith, knowing the amount of trust the Dark Slayer had extended, even after everything they’d been through, almost brought tears to her eyes.

It was when Buffy started to finally rock her knuckles against that rough patch, Faith g-spot, while nudging against her cervix, while her other hand reached down to pluck and pinch that overlarge, almost purplish clit, that things shifted even further. As Faith’s back bowed from the unique, startlingly pleasure-pain sensations, both women finally let go. Locking eyes, Buffy’s had shifted to an yellowish color, while Faith’s had rinsed to orangey color, and both sets glowed with an unusual mystical energy. Both of their Slayers were gaining consciousness at the powerful escalation of the Bond. But the Bond didn’t stop there; a pixie-haired woman, who’d been laying in bed, recovering from the unexpected ambush by Death Eaters, who hadn’t regained consciousness, much the worry of Ron, Harry, Fleur, and the rest of the Order, began shifting restlessly on the bed.

Alerted by the movement, Fleur who insisted on remaining on Hermione-watch, silently cursing the two women at the end of her Bond for provoking the Veela through their lovemaking, sat next to her friend, leaned over, and hoped that she’ll finally awaken. However, she could see Hermione’s eyes moving restlessly underneath the eyelids, and her body slightly undulating like she was having some kind of nightmare, or… judging by the moan that suddenly erupted from her friend’s mouth, lovemaking. Then there was the smell, underneath her own hint of arousal was another. Nostrils flaring, thanking Merlin that her friend was unconscious because she’d be mortified if she knew Fleur could scent her arousal.

Meanwhile Faith was busy wailing out her intense climax, followed by another, cum spilling out around Buffy’s fist, which was being squeezed so tight, she sincerely worried about being able to pull out at some point. But not yet. Now she greedily watched her Slayer lover in the throes of multi-orgasm, feeling it stretch out like bursts of fireworks along their Bond to crash into Buffy, causing her to climax as well. When Faith finally settled somewhat, brief, rhythmic shudders indicating smaller bursts of pleasure, Buffy knew that when they finally completed the Bond, it would be even more… intense. Their Slayers wanted a full merging tonight, but both Faith and Buffy made a conscious effort to wait. It wasn’t time yet. There was a pixie-haired witch waiting for them. Instead they’ll have to find a way to explain why one eye remained their natural color while the other was now a glowing indication of the Slayer.

As for the Julia and Willow, the red-head was currently ‘cleaning’ up the results of her most recent handiwork. After she cleaned her fingers of Julia’s cream, she began to lap up all the juices that had spilled along the swollen, purplish-pink lips, before lapping up more cream that had sprayed along toned thighs. When she finished to her regret, she began kissing her way up her still heaving, shuddering lover, until she came to Julia’s kiss-swollen lips, and began to share her own taste with Julia through deep intense kisses. Her own clit was still quivering from both Julia’s earlier ministrations to the intense Bond feedback. It was time to go get their other Mates. 


	22. Chapter 22

The all stood in battle-readiness, weapons at the ready, yet discreet enough that they would have an additional element of surprise. Time was of the essence at the moment. All four women: Julia, Willow, Buffy, and Faith woke sobbing and shivering from visions filtered down through their Bonds. Their witches were in serious trouble; a young man named Harry Potter, Fleur starring down a feral-looking male while standing protectively in front of Hermione, another male, a red-head stood next to Hermione both looked battered and bleeding. Then there was another vision; this time with this creepy-looking guy, with no nose, no hair, bad teeth, and dark robes, stood before what appeared to be a small army, pointing a wand straight up in the air to expel some type of colored-energy. Chances are it was of the bad. They could also see other things—demons approaching. They knew they were demons because they could see vamps fully vamped-out, or dark-purple colored demons, Ianatos Demon, with teeth for shredding and tearing, and razor sharp claws. 

It was one these beings cornering Hermione that really sent them into motion. This vision and more had Buffy, Faith, Willow, and Julia careening down the halls of HQ, sounding the alarm for an emergency Council meeting. A rather rumpled Giles, along with the Scoobies, the Clan, Vi, Rona, Satsu, Willow’s Coven, and Kennedy via Willow’s special brand of technology and magic that allowed an holographic image of someone to appear instead of the usual 2-D teleconferencing. Since battle plans had been in motion for a couple weeks already it was simply a matter of saying “ **go**.”

Willow and Rowena conjured a spell that allowed them to communicate via temporary telepathic link since electronics didn’t work in the Wizarding world. Interesting enough, this magical link didn’t extend to Willow, Faith, Buffy, or Julia. But Giles was immediately shot down for the time being.

“G-Man, we got places to be, asses to kick. We ain’t got a lot of time for you to go all Watcher-dude on us.” Faith had been busy sharpening her favorite knife before placing it in its special sheath, the others were also preparing;

Which is why the sense of increasing urgency surrounding their plans against Voldy-shorts and his scumbag minions was becoming more prevalent. If one could imagine prime racing horses chomping at the bit for the race to begin, that’s exactly the sensation Faith had been experiencing with increasing frequency, and judging from their Slayer Bond, so was Buffy. Giles, with Dawn looking over his shoulder, was reading the elegant script of a scroll that was sent to them via a beautiful Tasmanian Masked Owl that was currently nibbling on a piece of chocolate chip cookie fed to him by Dawn.

Giles removed his glasses, polishing them. “Well it appears that our timetable must be moved up. We’ll send a team to,” he paused to look at the address written on the document, “Number 12 Grimmauld Place to assess the situation and then the rest will join them as soon as possible.” He passed the letter on to Dawn as he moved over to his desk to call Buffy – who will then call everyone else.

Dawn knew that Buffy, Faith, Julia and her Clan, and Willow will insist on being a part of the first team. She suspected that Giles knew this as well. “Plan on me going too Giles.” She held up her hand to stave off any protests from him. “I’ve already lined up my arguments for my sister; I don’t need to deal with you as well.”

“Allow me to offer a suitable reply.” He ignored her exasperated sigh and eye-rolling as he continued his counter argument. “I don’t think it is at all unreasonable to hope that you’d reconsider. We will need a qualified group to assist in defending against probable attacks from this Voldemort character once we have entered the fray. With both your battle experience and becoming an expert linguist and researcher, I can’t think of anyone more suitable than you to lead this group.”

Now the sigh was one that was resigned. “No fair, Giles. I want to see this world too and Kierra....”

“And you will, just not the initial meeting. Particularly since you have powerful magic running in your veins—magic that I shudder to imagine, given your penchant for being kidnapped, would be of great benefit to Voldemort.’”

Dawn’s response was stymied by the arrival of the Scoobies and the Clan. Faith spoke first.

“Hey G-Man, what’s the what?” She flopped herself on the two-seater, as the others settled in, attentively listening.

He naturally removed his glasses as he prepared his instructions. “It appears as though circumstances have changed, ma--,”

“We move in tonight. They believe that the good guys’ HQ has been revealed to the baddies,” Dawn impatiently interrupted.

Everyone tensed, knowing what that meant. Buffy had an additional thought. “Well it looks like we’re about to have lots of guests.”

Willow nodded. “I agree, we’ll just invite them here. Perhaps we can utilize our satellite residence.” Since taking charge of the Council’s funds and resources, they discovered that they were now the owners of various properties all over the world, including additional properties in England.

“How soon are we talking here Giles? Are we talking hours or minutes…,” asked Julia.

“Well there appears to be some urgency within the letter, but it didn’t mention a timeframe.”

Zoe didn’t believe leaving anything up to chance. “Look, we’ve been planning for days now, we’ve been ready even longer; waiting any longer than necessary could jeopardize people’s lives.”

Faith stood up, fists clenching at her sides. “I agree. It’s time to move out. At least send a team out there to recon, before sending the rest.”

“Plus I’d finally like to get a **_feel_** of just how bad this Baddie, Voldy is,” Willow said a tad darkly. Julia donned a fierce grin at the tone. She so loved it when Willow tapped into her inner Alpha-Bitch; it made her feel all warm and tingly inside.

Giles had already pulled off his glasses. “Yes, well apparently a young woman named Fleur Delacour was attacked by these...Death Breeders--,”

Dawn would’ve laughed, if the situation wasn’t so serious or… if judging by the instantaneous fury running through Julia and Willow’s eyes, didn’t have her even more concerned, “Actually Giles, it’s Death Eaters.” 

Buffy had had enough. “We leave in an hour. Have Xander and Andrew set up the tech, we go in with the same team we used for Kierra, minus Vi and Rhona – they’ll be part of Team B. I suspect we’ll need them once we’ve done the initial ass-kicking.”

Meanwhile Xander had been reviewing what gadgets were going to be used for this mission. _He wondered if he could sneak in a rocket launcher and light up their sky with a different kind of ‘magic_ ,’ he snarkily thought.


	23. Chapter 23

Wearing mostly dark colors and leather, bristling with weapons, they landed in a place that looked as if it had been recently abandoned or bombed out. Rolling pockets of air whipped bits of paper, deadened leaves, and other debris. Storefronts with odd names like **_Eeylops Owl Emporium_ ** or the **_Leaky Cauldron_** , another favorite was ** _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC_** ** _._** , looking even more dilapidated than the other shops, were all boarded up. Other than the wind, the silence was stark for the more than fifteen people that had suddenly appeared.

Willow stood, wearing dark-green leather pants, a long-sleeved t-shirt that was covered by a matching dark-green, short leather jacket. She held her hand up, indicating silence, while she sent out her own magical feelers, her hair darkening red, turning black for a moment before turning white, and then back to her natural red. When that process finished she turned towards the **_Leaky Cauldron_**. “We might want to start there.”

Buffy frowned, her confusion showing. “Ahh, Will, it doesn’t look like its open.”

Willow replied, “Appearances can be deceptive.”

Faith slightly grinned. “Wow, Red, can you be any more mysterious.”

Nevertheless, everyone started moving towards that storefront, all with their hands close to their weapons, ready for any potential danger. Julia stepped in front of the door. “Allow me.”

Next thing they knew was they found themselves in what appeared to be an old-world bar, with only a smattering of people, who all paused at seeing them.

A blonde woman, in blue robes approaches them, looking around nervously, in particular at the two, greasy-haired men that stood up near the fireplace. “C-can I help you?”

Abernathy looked at the two men who started to approach them, before stepping in their path. “Sorry, private meeting. You’ll have to make an appointment.”

They sneeringly ran their eyes up and down her body. “We don’t make appointments with Muggles, we exterminate them.”

Abernathy mockingly brought a hand to her chest in a gesture of surprise and hurt, “You mean us?” By this time she was joined by Zoe and Xander.

Buffy realizing that they’d already found trouble, moved the blonde out of the way as she anticipated a couple of bodies flying. “Listen, I’m guessing by the two Creeps-Are-Us that we’re about to take care of, that you might be able to help us. We’re looking for someone… or someplace even.”

At that point the sound of something(s) hitting flesh followed by a cry of pain and a grunt, had both women looked over towards the two men only to see one writhing on the ground, and Xander snapping a wand. They winced as they watched Abernathy bring her knee up in between the second man legs, while bringing her forearm into his face. His nose bursted like a suddenly over-ripened grapefruit. Howling, he was silenced when Abernathy did a spinning kick to his temple, instantly knocking him out.

Buffy turned back to the blonde. “Now we were saying, we’re looking for a…,” she proceeded to dig into one of her pockets, but was interrupted by Willow.

“We’re looking for a Minerva McGonagall?” But the now pale blonde was busy watching them finish up with the two men, stunned, wondering how the Death Eaters were so easily disarmed.

Willow stepped closer to the blonde, sharing a look with Buffy before taking over the conversation. “Sorry, we get a little… triggy-finger around bullies.” She then looked concerned. “The—they’re not friends of yours right?”

Finally redirecting her attention on the red-head, whom she could feel… such powerful magic that she almost gasped. “Who-who  are you? And what do you want with…,” she paused to quickly looking around and then lowering her voice to a whisper, “with Minerva?”

Willow attempted to calm the woman to gain her trust. She put out her hand for a handshake for an introduction. “I’m sorry, where are our manners. My name is Willow and this is Buffy. In the interest of time, I won’t inundate you with everyone’s name; just know that she asked for us.”

At that, the woman narrowed her eyes. “You lot are gonna have to do better than that.”

Faith was getting impatient; the growing anxiety and worry facilitated the need for some action. Not to mention via the Bond, she could feel the pain and worry from their pixie-haired woman. She could feel these sensations practically crawl through her veins like alcohol. It was intense to say the least.

Because Willow knew that discretion was important and time was of the essence, she lifted her hand did a specific motion, said a few words, allowing her and the blonde to be encased in a shield that would allow them to freely speak. Willow wasn’t worried about the woman giving away their arrival; they were more than ready. At the move, the rest of team remained attentive while surrounding the two women protectively.

But now the blonde looked stunned, her mouth hanging open, her blue eyes wide. “Wandless magic. Ho-h-how?” Only very powerful wizards could do wandless magic and even then could they only mange a few spells.

Willow sighed; she suspected she’ll be getting asked that question quite a lot in this world. “There’s not enough time to explain, except to say that there's more than your kind of magic in the world. Minerva sent us a letter indicating they’d recently been attacked and requested our help. Do you have a way of contacting her?” Before the blonde could respond she pulled out the latest missive sent to them for proof. “Does this help prove our case?”

With shaking hands the blonde took the letter, recognizing McGonagall’s handwriting. “Ho-how did you--,”

The red-head got a little excited. “It was sent by this gorgeous owl. Can you believe itbeingabletotrainsuchabeautifulcreatureissoawesome...” Willow blushed realizing she uttered her usual Willow-babble. “Sorry, when I get excited or have too much caffeine… Anyways, can you help us?”

The blonde was silent for a moment as she tried to decipher what the red-head said, and then spent a few moments staring at Willow as she tried to ascertain whether or not to trust her, trust these strangers. Strangers that apparently had no fear of Death Eaters. Was this the help that Albus Dumbledore and Minerva alluded to? Nodding her head slightly, Hannah decided to take a leap of faith.

Holding out her own hand for a greeting she replied, “Well if I’m going to assist you, I might as well introduce myself. Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron, my name is Hannah Abbott.” Then Hannah’s eyes hardened, still holding Willow’s hand. “But if it turns out you’re lying, I’ll hex you into next year.”

Willow smiled. “Of course.” And with that she lifted the shield and turned to the group. “Everyone, this is Hannah.”

Shyly, Hannah waved, tucking a lock of blonde hair behind her ear as she made her way to the door, took out her wand, gave it a wave and casted a Disillusionment Spell, causing the doorway to become invisible on the outside. Hannah knew it would only buy her some time; Death Eaters would naturally find a hidden doorway to one of their hang-outs suspicious and would attempt to break the spell. Hurrying she grabbed some silvery floo powder and threw into the fireplace, much to the confusion of her guests. They were even more startled when the fire suddenly turned green and rushed towards Hannah when she started to put her head into the magical flames. _Muggles_ , she thought as she mentally rolled her eyes.

She waved her guests back as she started to speak into the fire once her head came out at Minerva’s office at Hogwarts. At first, she didn’t see the Headmistress, so she called a House Elf.

“Hello?!” She waited for a few moments for an Elf to appear and finally with a ‘ **pop** ’, wearing a raggedy dress, one materialized.

“Hello Missus Hannah Abbott! How can Lala help you?”

“Yes, Lala, please get Headmistress McGonagall immediately. It is an urgent matter.”

“Yes, Missus Hannah Abbott. Straight away Lala will retrieve Mistress McGonagall,” and with another ‘pop’ the Elf disappeared, only to reappear with a confused Minerva.

“Here is Lala with Mistress McGonagall, as yous told me to, Missus Hannah Abbott.” Minerva placed a calming hand on the Elf’s shoulder, showing her gratitude before with another ‘pop’ the Elf once again, disappeared.

“Hannah! What’s wrong? Is it th--,” Hannah knew what she was asking.

Shaking her head she replied, “No, it’s not about… that. But it appears there are some recent arrivals here at your request, asking for you.”

Minerva felt her heart begin to race. Could they have arrived? “I’ll be there shortly.”

Hannah nodded. “Hurry, I’ve placed a Disillusionment Spell on the entrance, but you know that will only last so long before someone gets suspicious.”

“Try to stay calm, I’ll be there momentarily. Be safe and please tell our ‘guests’ that I’ll be there to meet with them soon.”

And with that the communication was disconnected as Hannah pulled her head back out of the fire to the astonishment of her guests.

“What the hell is that?!” Zoe exclaimed. 

“I second that!” Xander chimed in. 

Willow tried to contain her excitement at learning something new, while Julia kept her eyes on the window; she shared a smile with Buffy, both practically ‘seeing’ Willow quivering with anticipation. Faith rolled her eyes, while she kept her own eyes on the doorway.


	24. Chapter 24

Minerva could only look on in surprise, yet relief at these strangers, powerful strangers if the magical feedback coming from the red-head (who looked like a long-lost Weasley relative), or the tall, beautiful café-cream skinned woman was any indication. They looked fierce and fearless, and unlike anything they’d seen in the Wizarding world. Looking at the rest of the visitors – aside from the male with the eye-patch and dark hair, the rest either felt lesser versions of the red-head or the darker woman. The Others felt a decidedly more feral, a different kind of Power, except similar to the red-head and the darker woman, the short blonde and the dark-haired women were also more notable than the others, whose energies were similar.

The Slayer had been sort of a nebulous storybook figure, where little was known about them. There had been rumors that she existed, but none within the Wizarding world, except for probably Albus, had ever seen nor met one. As a consequence, wild stories abound: from the Slayer being ten feet tall to being able to change their appearance into something fearsome at will. Needless to say, the women that stood before her were a bit of a surprise.

“I am Minerva McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardy. Thank you for responding so quickly to my letter. Now, if you would be so kind as to follow me, we must leave. People are expecting you. Quickly, before more unpleasantness arrives.” She spoke quietly with Hannah and then motioned to everyone to follow her.

“Normally we would use the floo, but since the Ministry is now ran by _His_ followers--,”

“Oh no worry, if I can just hold your hand so that I can get a sense of where we need to be, I’ll pop us over there right now,” Willow excitedly exclaimed.

“But yo--,” Minerva was interrupted when someone laid a hand on her shoulder, the dark-haired woman.

“Hey, it’s cool. You gotta let Red do her mojo and we’ll be wherever you need us to be.” Faith could see the older woman’s confusion with Red’s lack of ‘stick-magic.’ But really, Minerva was trying to decipher Faith’s unique syntax, as she hesitantly held out her hand for Willow.

Once Willow clasped her hand, her eyes went completely white, startlingly Minerva, before they flushed back to their natural color. She then smiled at Minerva. “Ok, everyone ready? We’re going to Grimmauld Place.”

The red-head wasn’t simply excited over discovering a new world; it was the fact that both she and Julia could **_feel_** Fleur close and the ** _want_** of her was becoming intense. The tension steaming from Julia was maddening, filling her with energy that if she hadn’t spent so much time learning to control her magic it might have already gotten away from her. Julia shared a long look with Willow, her copper-colored eyes lidded and intense, snaring the red-head so that she wasn’t able to look away; her surroundings fell away until only Julia’s eyes, the pulsating Bond with Fleur were the only things she was aware of. Her eyes widened as she swore she heard a low-rumbling growl erupt from Julia’s throat. But then her skin became flushed because she instinctually knew what that meant: the waiting was over.

“Ahh, guys, this isn’t the time. I mean come on; you’re killin’ me with the pheromones! More of these bat-lookin’ muthafuckas are bound to show up anytime soon and y’all lookin’ like someone’s leg is gonna get humped.” Kim looked to the Buffy and Faith only to be flabbergasted and then exasperated when they appeared to experiencing a similar condition, only Buffy had her hand laid on Faith’s heaving chest.

“Oi, for the love of--,” Zoe grabbed Buffy’s hand, ignoring the growl from Faith to drag her along behind a quickly-striding Minerva, while Kim yanked Julia’s hand to tug her along the same path. It seemed that jarring them out of whatever phenomenon they were experiencing appeared to have broken whatever trance they’d been in. If anyone asked her, Zoe thought they looked like they were in the midst of some kind of mating drive.

The group finally found themselves before a row of townhouses; except the numbers went from eleven to thirteen, there appeared to be no number 12. However Minerva took out her wand, gave it a wave and then proceeded forward. They watched in awe as two townhouses shuddered and then moved, allowing another one to appear in the middle; suddenly revealing _12 Grimmauld Place_. Shaking their heads, the group followed behind, remaining on alert. The door was opened before Minerva turned the knob and an older, red-headed woman, with her wand out, stood in the doorway.

“Minerva!” she frowned, yet looked interested. She motioned them inside. “I see you brought guests. Please come inside before more of those Death Ea..,” that was when she noticed the prone Death Eaters lying unconscious or worse. She returned her attention to the unusual guests. “Ah-ah my name is Molly Weasely. The rest are upstairs in the study.”

Faith raised her hands as she said, “Surprise!”

“So this place isn’t creepy at all…,” Buffy muttered, as they followed Minerva and Molly down a long dark hallway, until they came to some stairs. The Slayer turned her attention to the older red-headed woman. “So have you thought about investing in some track lighting?”

Molly looked confused and was about to respond to that odd statement, before a screeching voice sounded out over the darkened entrance, startling everyone, knives and swords were cleared of sheaths, everyone had dropped into defensive positions. _What are these filthy Mudbloods doing in my house?! The world has gone mad_ , and the rest was muffled as Molly quickly re-settled a heavy drape over a painting.

Tucking in a strand of red hair behind her ear and then deeply sighing, she turned towards her guests. “We apologize, that’s old Walburga Black - the Black ancestor who despised anyone who wasn’t a pureblood. The painting is enchanted so that if left uncovered she lets her… displeasure, much to ours, known.”

“Well that’s a ‘security system’ if I’ve ever seen one. Guaranteed to startle anyone: both intruder an--,” whatever else Xander was about to say was cut off when a gorgeous, blonde-haired woman came running down the stairs, only to slow as she came closer, her eyes locked onto Willow?, before locking onto Julia?. _What the heck?!_

“Ah Fleur, be a dear and take our guests to the study, while I go and whip up something for them?” But Fleur didn’t seem to be paying any attention to older red-headed witch.

In fact, Molly watched in fascination as a red-head, causing Molly to double-take because of the young woman’s resemblance to her red-headed brood, also seemed to be equally stunned. But the young woman only had eyes for Fleur… as did the stunning darker woman who stood close to the red-head, both staring at Fleur as if she was delivering some kind of benediction. But the look in Fleur’s eyes was anything but divine intervention. In fact, her usually silver-blue eyes were darkening, her nose flaring as if trying to sniff the immediate area.

Minerva cautiously approached the half-Veela-half-Witch. “Fleur!? Focus on my voice…” but the young woman stood rigid, staring at Willow and Julia.

Meanwhile it became apparent that they weren’t going to receive any help from Buffy and Faith; they had already begun to slip silently, but with purpose up the staircase.

Xander, Pendar, Roane, Satsu, another Slayer named Mina, Abernathy, Zoe, and Kim, could only look on in bewilderment at the strange developments. “Ummm, anyone wanna tell me what the hell is goin’ on?!”

Another voice entered the fray, “I believe that they’re experiencing some kind of mystical draw between the young women, a Bond is apparently manifesting itself. Are any of you an Animagus?”

“Animal who?” Abernathy questioned.

Xander meanwhile was also checking his surroundings as he protectively followed Buffy and Faith up the stairs, only to be startled again by… stuffed heads of some kind of creature lining the wall. Pointing at the objects, he yelped, “What the hell is that?!”

Minerva had been following him as well. “That,” she motioned towards the heads, “is compliments of the looney family that resided here. Those are their former House Elves.”

By this time, more people had appeared, making the already uncomfortable-bristling-with-weapons-guests even more nervous. Including two red-headed male twins, much to the consternation of their Mother who was trying to figure out why Fleur was looking at two women in a way that should be reserved for her son Bill. The same way she still occasionally looked at Arthur. Granted she noticed that the two seemed to be having problems lately, but she had chalked it up to the stress of the War, and an impending wedding.

“Hello, I’m George.”

“No, I’m George, he’s Fred.”

“No, he’s George, I’m Fred.”

“Hey Will, you got any cousins in London?” Zoe rhetorically asked. She snuck a look at the scene being played out below as she headed up the stairs and wondered if this woman was whom those two had been waiting for.

“I believe we should leave them to work this out.” Remus gently clasped a protesting Molly’s elbow to escort the woman the rest of the way up the stairs.

“This house is straight outta House on Haunted Hill!” Abernathy could only marvel at the dreary, dusty-ass, majorly creepy, house. She wished she could contact some of her buddies back in Hollywood; they’d have a field day using this place for a location shot for a horror film.

Meanwhile Willow lifted a trembling hand to Fleur, wondering if she was real. Fleur directed her still darkening, changing eyes towards Julia, watching as the woman came closer, quickening the Veela’s blood, the magical blood to sting through her veins like whiskey. “Hi.”

It seemed inadequate but at this point, it seemed as if actions were needed more than words. Willow stepped up the stairs towards the blonde until she was almost flush with the other witch’s body. They watched as Fleur’s eyes fluttered in response, her pulse point throbbing, causing Willow to focus on it like a **Velociraptor** cornering its prey.

Fleur almost felt… too much. And her Veela wanted them, wanted to let them know that It was theirs, as they were Hers. Her skin felt too tight, her bones seemed to be shifting, thickening, her nailbeds began to feel sore, as if they couldn’t contain nails that suddenly wanted to grow long and dangerous. Luckily she was only half-Veela or she suspected she would have completely Shifted, as the Veela scented Its Mates.

They were here! She couldn’t believe it. She needed… to touch, to **_feel_ ** for herself. The Veela-Witch lifted her own trembling hand to briefly touch the darker woman, her skin a beautiful caramel color, flowing dark curls that Fleur itched to run her fingers through. The red-head was as different from the other woman as night and day; skin the color of pink roses with a smattering of freckles (apparently she has certain preference for freckled red-heads), slim, shapely body encased in soft leather the color of hunter-green. When she shifted her gaze to… Willow(?) she realized that they had become close enough that their breaths ghosted across the other’s lips.

It was when she felt the hot brand of Julia’s fuller lips along the glimpse of creamy flesh that peaked through the off-the shoulder blouse, suddenly making her glad that Molly went upstairs. However it was the brush of Willow’s lips along hers that made her wonder how long her legs would hold her up.


	25. Chapter 25

“B, I-I think she’s in here.” Faith pressed her palm against the door.

Both stood, panting slightly from the quick lope up the winding stairway, ignoring the odd paintings that moved, or the stuffed-heads of some kind of creature—a whole family of them. They also ignored the steadily growing group of strangers who warily watched the two, beautiful, leather-clad, yet dangerous-looking women moving up the stairs with a purpose. Even Ron, mouth stuffed with chocolate frogs, pointing at the two women, as his sister Ginny, stood rolling her eyes at him in disgust, but with a warning to keep eating, and no talking. Meanwhile Harry had been talking with Kingsley Shaklebolt, Abeforth Dumbledore, Charlie Weasley, Tonks, and Mr. Weasley. There were only two horcruxes left to destroy, two **unknown** horcruxes, and Harry knew that the answers existed at Hogwarts.

Severus Snape was now the Headmaster there, along with a few additional odious instructors-Death Eaters. Harry, along with everyone, believed that things were coming to a head, the inevitable meeting between Voldemort and him would soon fall upon them. Without destroying the last horcruxes Harry didn’t stand a chance. He wished Hermione was here. He swallowed hard when he remembered the condition she arrived in, carried by Fleur, after attempting to retrieve a book she believed held the clue to deciphering one of the horcruxes. The night before had been spent arguing against Hermione’s idea with Ron, Remus, and Fleur. One of the now abandoned shops down the infamous Knockturn Alley, _Borgin and Burkes_ , held the book in question.

Nevertheless, the ancient Egyptian book Hermione went looking for, believed to be made of human skin, with the feel of papyrus, was thought to have been the last known book of Tom Riddle/Voldemort. It was a book about Resurrection and Reanimation. They only came across this clue during the wild heist at Gringotts; as they tried to escape Bellatrix’s vault, trying to overcome the ever-repeating spell, allowing every object they touched to constantly reproduce, almost swallowing them whole. Hermione – ever the resourceful scholar, was mindful enough to grab some journals belonging to the infamous Death Eater.

Despite Hermione growing into a powerful witch in her own right, despite the careful planning between them, the minute Fleur’s hand touched the doorknob to the shop, it seemed to trip some kind of alarm, and instantly Death Eaters appeared like mists of black smoke, along with Unforgiveable spells. With Harry, Remus, and Ron coming from behind, they were able to avoid the immediate deaths of his friends. But not before Hermione was hit with two Crucio spells while diving in front of Fleur.  Luckily they were able to grab both women and Disapparate from the scene back to Grimmauld.

Unbeknownst to them, Hermione had still been recovering from her unpleasant experience at the Malfoy Mansion at the hands of Bellatrix and Fenrir, hence the reason why she was currently in a coma. But their current discussion was broken up by a commotion outside the room and unusual… buzz of magic? Unlike any magic he’d ever felt; wild and weirdly a mixture of both dark and light magic. Pulling his wand out, he followed the others out the door, sincerely hoping that whatever the disturbance meant good news, because he wasn’t sure how much more bad news he could take.

****

“You can go in you know. I think she’s expecting you.” A light, breathy voice sounded out from behind them. Buffy turned towards a light-blonde, messily haired young woman, with huge blue eyes. Eyes that seemed big and innocent, but Buffy suspected that with this war, and that bruise along her jaw, that ‘innocent’ left the room a long time ago.’

However, Buffy had bigger concerns right now. “Thank you?”

“Oh, the name’s Luna.” She paused, her head tilted as if she were hearing some unknown sound. “You better hurry before the others arrive.”

When the door creaked open, Buffy returned her attention to her Sister Slayer and lover. The room was darkened, with only muted lighting casting shadows along the walls and floors. Buffy hadn’t even been aware that she’d already followed Faith inside. It was the scent that hit them first: a combination of wildflowers, cinnamon, and a metallic smell of blood. They saw her lying in the middle of a huge four-poster bed. The white bandage across her left temple clued them in that their witch had been recently hurt. Badly. Trying to quell the instant rush of rage and vengeance, Buffy watched as Faith began to undress.

“Faith what are you doing?” She had her suspicions; her own Slayer was urging her touch, to feel, to heal.

“Buffy, I gotta put my skin next to hers. And if my suspicions are right, she’ll be right as rain faster if you join in.” She slightly grinned, giving a hint of her impressive dimples. “As much as I wanna allow both of you to take me out for a ‘test drive,’” she ran her hands down her impressively, naked body, “we got business to handle here.”

Faith couldn’t explain the intense deep pain in her chest when she finally saw her pixie-haired woman so still, so hurt. The rage was there too. The Slayer, her Slayer wanted retribution, but It also knew one of Its Mates needed tending to first. Then once they found who was responsible, she’ll let the Slayer out – all the way out. And it won’t be nothing nice; for the prey.

Nodding, Buffy understood, she hurt in a way she couldn’t explain. She clutched her chest, hoping it’ll go away, but she knew unless she… touched, she felt, and healed her witch, it wouldn’t lessen. Undressing, watching as Faith carefully peeled back the blankets, carefully examining Hermione; not in a pervy way, but in a “is she all right” kinda way. Buffy wanted to know too.

Faith slowly and carefully slid an arm underneath Hermione’s neck, deeply inhaling her scent for the first time, and then stemming a growl that threatened to erupt when she smelled the blood pooling underneath her skin in garish bruises along her witch’s torso, arms, and back. Dipping her head down, Hermione shifted, somehow knowing that she suddenly felt safer than had in a very long time. Buffy gently snuggled up tightly against Hermione’s opposite side, her arm joining Faith’s along their witch’s stomach, enveloping her in a warm cocoon of healing, as powerful Slayer energy seeped into her skin, coiling even deeper, seeking, seeking, until it found Hermione’s dormant magic. Dormant because of the resulting effects of multiple applications of the _Crucio_ spell and other dangerous spells.

After some time, moaning into a light wakefulness, Hermione’s deep amber eyes fluttered open, startled at seeing coffee-colored eyes; eyes whose edges were bleeding a glowing orangey color. Thick dark hair fell around the woman’s muscular shoulders and arms, arms that were currently wrapped around Hermione’s. There were also another set of arms holding her from behind. Smaller, yet even Hermione could feel the strength in them, but they held her with such tenderness. For some reason Hermione never consider being frightened, she felt… full, content. Her body felt sated, but not in a sexual way, but as in a something-had-been-missing-and-was-suddenly-filled kind of way.

“H-hello.” Hermione felt the need to at least be polite. She **knew** who they were, her body and her magic knew who they were.

Suddenly the woman grinned, dimples showing in spectacular relief. “How goes it Pixie?” Her voice had this attractive fire-whiskey soaked voice that sent shivers down Hermione’s spine.

“Faith, leave Pix alone, she certainly doesn’t need your uber-sexy voice having just met you.” The clear tones came from the woman cuddled up against Hermione’s back. Turning her head slowly, mostly because she felt… delicate, like not quite herself yet. Her eyes landed on hazel ones, framed by blonde hair, similar to the dark-haired woman, her eyes too, were glowing, the edges also bleeding in icy-gold color, the color of pale ale.

“Hi Hermione. How you feelin?’” As Hermione shifted more to focus her attention on the blonde, was when she realized that both women were… naked!

Blushing, “Umm, you wouldn’t happen to know why two strange, naked women are sharing my bed, would you?”

Buffy lifted her hand, to gently cup Hermione’s cheek, her eyes became knowing. “Surely we passed ‘strange’ a long time ago, my witch.” With that she moved her hand further to gently and slowly peel back the bandage. The gash was now mostly healed; only slight scarring to show for her almost fatal run-in with a group of Death Eaters.

When she felt the brush of full lips along her shoulder, her eyes involuntarily closed in pleasure, as warm tingles darted down along her shoulder and alongside her neck. “The name’s Faith and that’s Buffy.”

Hermione found herself leaning closer to the blonde’s lips without even realizing it. Buffy didn’t need a bigger invitation, she’d been… restraining herself, and if she’d been holding back, she knew that Faith was practically vibrating with the need to assert some kind of Claim on their Pixie. Leaning forward until her lips touched Hermione’s, sensation exploded, sensitizing her mouth making her want to slide her fingers through that tousled, adorable, sexy mop of dark hair, in order to crush her mouth against their wWitch’s. Instead, still in consideration of her recovery, she nibbled, sucked Hermione’s lower lip, lightly licking the seam in between, hoping to gain entrance.

Meanwhile Faith had brushed aside the shoulder strap of her Pixie’s white cotton nightgown to spread more kisses along the delicate, yet sleekly-muscled shoulders, pausing at a mole there, suckling at a freckle here. It was hard because Faith so wanted to slightly lift Pixie’s thigh so that she could slide her fingers along the pooling wetness she could smell. Instead she moved her hand to lightly cup a heavy breast, pebbled hardness nudging her palm, her callused thumb brushing against the tip.

Granted entrance Buffy slowly worked her tongue inside her witch’s mouth, instantly tangling, twining, and then lightly suckling her wet muscle. She hungrily swallowed Hermione’s whimpers and moans of pleasure as she carefully slid her thigh in between their Pixie’s, mindful that she was still recovering. The hunger increased, but so was the healing; Slayer healing… and the Bonding.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beware! Sexy times straight ahead...

Fleur could only marvel at the two women who were now standing before her. But an audience they didn’t need; taking both women’s hands she quickly dragged them to one of the abandoned studies, hoping they wouldn’t have to deal with any Doxies or Boggarts. Once the Veela-Witch led them into the room, she took her wand out, pointed towards the fireplace, said a spell, and a warm fire erupted. Then she pointed it towards the gas lamps around the room, lighting them too. Unfortunately the layer of dust and disrepair was noticeable. Hhowever before she could use her wand to set things somewhat decent, the red-headed woman whispered an incantation, and a white swirl of smoke whipped around them, leaving objects dusted, polished, books righted themselves or flew into a spot on the bookshelf, until finally things were more than passable. It was an impressive display of magic without a wand.

Returning her attention to her… guests, she saw the darker woman grinning, as the red-head lightly blushed before she stepped forward, holding out her hand in a delayed greeting. “Hi, I’m Willow, that’s Julia, and… well we’ve been waiting to meet you for a very long time. Or what seems like forever, when in actuality it’s only been a few months. But they feel longer, so long, I could almost--,”

Julia leaned over and quickly dropped a kiss on her red-headed lover’s lips, heading off the Willow-babble before she picked up full steam. “Sorry darlin.’ Willow-babble only happens when she’s real excited and we’re real excited to meet you.”

Fleur didn’t even realize she had already clasped Willow’s hand, tugging her closer. “’Ou do not use a wand! Magnifiques!” The word was exclaimed with a purr at the end as her Veela, very pleased that her Mates were finally here, started to make Itself known.

Willow stepped closer, so close until she was pressed against the blonde, whose eyes began bleeding to a glowing golden color, and whatever else the red-head was about to say was swallowed up by lips that crashed onto hers. Julia’s pulse thundered as she watched the two most precious people in her world, become acquainted. Brushing her red-headed lover’s hair aside to begin nibbling along her ear as she reached around her to slide her hand into Fleur’s gossamer blonde locks, so that when the Veela-Witch finally lifted her lips from Willow to inconveniently breathe, Julia was waiting.

Tugging her other witch’s head forward, with Willow looking intently on, so she could taste what she had only dreamed about, her tongue questing, seeking permission before plunging into the waiting heat inside. Growling the two Alphas gently battled, mapping out each other’s mouths. The red-head could only whimper in response as her darkened green eyes grew heavy with arousal, watched her lover and soon-to-be lover kiss.

 “Oh goddess!” she whispered breathily.

The houseful of people didn’t matter, the dark and dreary House-on-Haunted-Hill didn’t matter, the waiting group of Council members didn’t matter, even this fucked-up War waiting for them didn’t matter, not at this moment. Only the Bond mattered; a Bond that had been stretched and pulled like taffy, as it waited to be _Claimed_. And from the look and feel of things, that _Claiming_ was about to happen.

Fleur somehow managed to use her wand, gave it an intricate wave, and clothes began to part and shimmer off both their bodies, while Willow simply began unbuttoning and removing her own clothes. She also whispered a few words that placed a protective ward around the room, while locking the door to the room to prevent any… unwanted intrusions. When Fleur’s milky skin was revealed to Julia and Willow, it was enough to inspire the red-head to press her now naked torso to Fleur’s back, her hands snaked themselves around the blonde’s stomach to sweep up and gently cup her heaving breasts. It was all Fleur could do to keep her eyes open, not wanting to miss a single moment of Julia disrobing; her gorgeous caramel-chocolate skin becoming burnished copper in the firelight.

Fleur slowly swept her arms along the sleekly-muscled arms, up over her corded shoulders, then switched directions, halting momentarily as Willow’s fingers began plucking, tugging, and rolling her nipples. Her soft lips suckled and nipped their way along her shoulder, up along her neck until the red-head sucked the blonde’s earlobe into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it. Her now intensely-golden eyes slid shut at the dual assault, only to fly open when a warm mouth encased her hardened nipple. Her hands flew to tangle into Julia’s hair, gently tugging her head even closer, her head falling back onto Willow’s shoulder, loving the feel of the darker woman’s tongue swirling around her rigid nub, as she sucked it intently.

Nipping the tip of the blonde’s nipple, before lapping and swirling her tongue along Fleur’s full breast, up along her shapely shoulders, along her neck, until Julia lightly brushed her lips along the slight cleft in Fleur’s chin, before once again, falling onto the Veela’s lips. After plundering, twining their tongues around the others for a few moments, Willow reveled in the sounds erupting from her lovers’ mouths. Julia lifted her mouth, allowing Fleur to turn around to clasp her hands along the red-head’s waist, bending down to slide her pants down, and then taking a moment to deeply inhale the delicious scent of arousal emanating from Willow. Nostrils flaring, how Fleur managed to restrain the Veela from throwing her red-headed witch to the floor, and supping the juices leaking from her cunt, she didn’t know.

Instead she whispered a few words and with a **_squeek_** from Willow, the red-head found herself naked on her back on a Persian rug in front of the plush couchas the firelight danced from the nearby fireplace. Both Julia and Fleur found themselves kneeling before the red-head, as if they were presenting themselves as disciples before a priestess. Willow could only gasp, sliding her fingers into gorgeous blondish-white locks and dark curls, her hips shifting and undulating as both women shared a brief but hungry kiss before they began suckling, lapping, and kissing their way up alabaster, lightly freckled thighs. Willow darkened green eyes could only watch, cries spilling from her lips, knowing she wasn’t far from begging her lovers to make her cum.

“Oh!” Her hips jerked desperately wanting their mouths much closer to her wet slit.

Fleur lifted her swollen lips just as they reached the manicured and very wet red-curls. “Mon dieu! ‘Ou smell delicious! I cannot wait to taste ‘ou.”

Julia let out a low seductive chuckle right as she nudged those curls with her nose. Inhaling, the thick scent of woman and magic filling her nostrils, she gently lifted one of Willow’s thighs to bend it back, fully exposing the swollen, pink, and glistening flesh. Fleur followed suit, also lifting and bending back Willow’s thigh until the red-head was almost lewdly exposed. But it only served to heighten the already fierce arousal among the lovers. Her Veela wanted to bath in their scents and vice versa, so that all would know they belonged to each other.  


	27. Chapter 27

Bellatrix fiercely paced in front of a cowering Lucious Malfoy, while her sister, Narcissa sat rigid, posture perfect, and pale as her crazed sister cursed and threatened. “That’s ten; **ten** of my men! Plus four from a few weeks ago. Gone! And dead! Without even the stench of those filthy blood traitors from the Order to indicate they’d been involved!”

Clenching her fists, her wand bending dangerously as a result, before she got a grip of herself, Bella turned her attention to Cissy. “We must think of… _something_ to tell the Dark Lord.” She finally halted; her intense dark eyes glanced at her sister. “He does not tolerate unpleasant… surprises.” Bellatrix was also thinking of her still healing wounds from the punishment doled out by her Dark Lord for allowing the _Golden Trio_ to escape.

Lucious tentatively thought of ways to calm the most notorious Death Eater, decided to add his two-cents. “Bellatrix, p-perhaps you could capture--,”

“If you are about to say, ‘capture a member of the Order’ then save your breath. Do you think me so incompetent that that thought hadn’t occurred to me?!” She menacingly stepped closer to Lucious, enjoying the look of fear that danced across his face. “After all, I’m not a miserable failure like you.”

As she was about to continue taunting him, Bellatrix was interrupted when the door to the drawing room flew open, and her odious husband Rodolphous arrived, along with  two other Death Eater goons, as well as Fenrir. “Well, well, well. What do we have here, my dear?”

Bellatrix gritted her teeth, her eyes sparking dangerously, as she glared at her husband. “Cissy, take your pathetic excuse for a husband and leave us for a few moments.” She glided over to a seat, sat down and casually crossed her legs, her wand at the ready. “Why don’t you go see what those mischievous elves are up to?”

It was posed as a question, but Narcissa knew it was an order, and even though she had no qualms standing up her sister, she still had to think of Draco. Plus she disliked being anywhere around Fenrir. Her wand-hand tended to get anxious. As a silent and pale Luciuos followed her out into the hallway, she allowed her neutral expression to fall away, weariness and a tired anger took its place. Stealing a glance at the still arrogant, but decidedly tousled and weary profile of her husband, she remembered how she actively supported him in the beginning. Mostly because she didn’t really believe that Voldemort could be resurrected, much less raise an army of supporters, even if her own sense of pureblood superiority had been browbeaten into her and her sisters since before they could walk. But her husband’s utter disregard for his son, for her, in addition to the numerous affairs that he wasn’t aware she knew about, and now the stench of his… fear and cowardice made him wholly unappealing to her. She should have known better: about both Luciuos and Voldemort.

She remembered as child, an ancient tome that her and her sister Andromeda had stumbled upon in the once impressive Black ancestral home. The book had been hidden, but it contained very old magic; dark and forbidden magic. It was the kind of book that was usually placed within the protective barrier of the Hogwarts library; in the restricted section where dangerous books were located. An area in which the Black sisters had always been able to circumvent. But the Black library surpassed any dark magic tome Hogwarts had to offer. Narcissa remembered something about a spell; a spell that upon first glimpse had sent icy tendrils of fear down her spine. A spell of resurrection, which allowed the caster to retain pieces of their soul by storing them in various objects, giving them immortality. As long as those pieces remained, so too did the person. It was only when she overheard Bella whispering something about a cup along with the word, horcruxes, that she remembered this spell. It would also explain why Voldemort returned and seemed stronger than ever.

As for her sister Bella, Narcissa could find little evidence of the loving sibling she’d grown up with. Perhaps it was her stay in Azkaban, perhaps it was Andy’s betrayal, perhaps it was being the first-born of an elite, Dark Wizarding family, and perhaps it was when Bella found their mother, dead by her own hand. Or perhaps it was simply growing up Black. Perhaps it was all these things combined that shaped Bella into the… _thing_ she was now. And now Narcissa mourned the loss of another sister. It also made the loss of Andy that much more excruciating, particularly since Narcissa knew it was party her fault for excluding her from her life. She could only hope to salvage something with the one sister and a niece she’d never formally met, before it was too late.

Secretly, Narcissa hoped that Harry Potter would succeed. Otherwise they were all doomed. 


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beware! More sexy-times ahead...

Hermione whimpered when plush lips plundered her own, Faith’s tongue curling around her own, muffling her cries of pleasure as Buffy feasted on her. To say she’d been both startled, but desperately pleased at being awakened by her Mates was an understatement. Hermione could admit that she’d been in a very bad way; reality had become… muffled, too painful, and she was very tired. When two sets of callused hands began stroking along her naked skin, nudging her into consciousness, she could only marvel at the tender, yet passionate looks bestowed upon her.

Plus it wasn’t often that Hermione awakened to find to naked women in her bed. In fact, it was an… experience she’d never encountered. But she hadn’t been scared because before she’d been nudged into wakefulness, she sensed them, stronger than ever, a balm to her wounded soul. Her magic had even rejoiced; that was another… side-effect to this unusual Bonding. Her magic had become more feral, more metaphysical, as if It were a sentient entity within her, even making it easier to do wandless magic. It was what had saved her life. Something like a ‘push’ from inside her alerted her to the danger coming from behind, allowing the deadly green fire to zing past her ear. This… entity also seemed to have settled deeper inside her, whereas before it had been more of a magical core. Now it was everywhere; skin, her pores, hair follicles, even her bones. She also suspected It was the reason why her injuries weren’t more severe from the last attack by the group of Death Eaters.

It also helped her get to safety, here at HQ, when she’d been near unconscious. However, none of that mattered. As her own hand slid into the Faith’s thick, dark mane, while her other had interwoven into Buffy’s golden locks, holding her head closer, as she felt Buffy’s lips wrap themselves around her throbbing clit. Faith lifted her lips only to scorch her way along Hermione’s jaw, down along her neck to the tender and healing flesh along her shoulder and upper-arm. Faith gentled her lips, lightly brushing them along the almost-healed wound; she lifted her head to ensure she wasn’t hurting her witch.

Hermione, whose eyes had become so dark they were almost black with arousal, combed her fingers through Faith’s hair. Her other hand caressed the other’s blonde locks, firmly wrapping them in her hand as Buffy nestled her face near her wet curls and swollen folds, paused, stared hungrily into the glistening sex. Meanwhile Faith’s hot mouth lapped and suckled its way down the slope of Hermione’s breast, leaving behind tiny blotches of hot, red skin, until her tongue slowly circled her erect nipple, making it even harder, eliciting a needy groan.

“Pl-please. I… need…oh Merlin, please!” She began to beg as Buffy took a languorous lick through wet folds, humming her appreciation at the taste. Hermione felt out of control, like her body belonged to someone else. Her back arched as Faith’s mouth engulfed her nipple, her other hand tugged, twisted, and squeezed her other nipple. This led to Buffy dipping her tongue into Hermione’s greedy hole, enjoying the way the tight walls clenched as if trying to suck in that wet muscle.

Buffy paused, looked up, her want felt a little… ferocious, as she watched Faith feast on their witch’s breast. Hermione’s head had fallen back, tousled autumn curls strewn about her forehead. Her hips churned, undulating, until she finally noticed that Buffy was no longer lapping where she needed her to. Hermione brought her head forward, locked onto a pair of darkened copper eyes.

Buffy coos, “No need to beg. We’ll take care of you.”

 Hermione shifted her eyes, a whimper escaping her lips as Faith’s teeth nibbled the tip of her nipple. She watched as Faith pulled up on the tender flesh, orangey-copper eyes staring into her own, the Slayer’s gleaming, white teeth deliciously stretched the reddening nub, before letting it snap back into position.

“She’s right, Pix. You’re ours to take care of; been ours for a while, and we ain’t leaving this room ‘til we do.” Faith huskily added.

With that she began nibbling her way down Hermione’s heaving torso, pausing over her bellybutton, while Buffy once again began lapping up the juices spilling from Hermione’s opening. Hermione’s hips thrusted into Buffy’s mouth, Faith nuzzled the moist curls, her head leaning one way so as not to interfere with her Sister-Slayer’s feeding. Faith loved the way her witch’s hands clutched her shoulder, enjoyed her nails digging into her skin, the decadent sounds coming from Hermione’s mouth, the magic reaching, twining Itself around both Slayers. For Faith It caressed her skin, sensitizing it. It even made her already erect nipples even tenderer; the sensation of that magic wrapping Itself around her nipples, squeezing, tugging, and then winded Its way down her abdomen, caressing The Scar. More than that, Faith’s Slayer was growling and panting as She inhaled the scents coming from both her witch and her Slayer.

Meanwhile Buffy’s Slayer was undergoing similar sensations and feelings, but her reaction to Hermione’s Magic was even more intense than Faith’s. Buffy felt like it was coming out of pores, sifting Itself through every strand of hair, only to wind Its way down her torso to wrap Itself around her clit, squeezing, filling her cunt until it practically felt like it was breaking out the other side near her bellybutton. Giles always did say, that their **_qi_** , a center of power was located in that area – perhaps the same principle held true in this situation.

For Hermione her Magic, in combination with Buffy circling her entrance, and then once again slowly working her wet muscle inside her, Faith lightly dancing the tip of her tongue around her clit, created sensations she could never imagine. Not to mention what it was doing to her Magic; her Magic felt… primal, almost wild, but it liked, needed her Slayers…  and Hermione had never been one to be particularly possessive about anyone.

Her relationship with Ron felt prepubescent compared to what she was experiencing with these… **_her_** Slayers. But her Magic had her feeling… open, definitely more controlled chaos, and along with possessive.  The fact that she was a virgin made no difference. A fact she was ever so thankful of considering her experience at Fenrir’s hands. In fact she was mentally startled that she somehow _knew_ that Buffy and Faith knew, and was content in knowing that they would take care of her. More importantly, it seemed appropriate that they be the ones to receive this gift. Gasping, crying out as Buffy’s tongue curled, setting off nerve-endings along her honey walls she didn’t know she had—despite all the times her own fingers went exploring.

“Merlin!” She cried out when Faith started lashing her clit with tongue, coaxing the quivering, reddened head out its hiding place.

When Buffy retracted her tongue upon coming to the evidence of Hermione’s virginity, Faith briefly paused, locking eyes with the blonde woman, glowing amber and orangey-yellow eyes meeting. Both women, fully merged with their Slayers, the First Slayer, because of Hermione’s Magic were a little more… _Slayery_ than human. In order for the _Claiming_ to be complete the Slayers must accept and Bond with Hermione’s Magic, and by extension Hermione. Blood was a powerful conduit, plus the energies of three strong mystical women, and blood from Hermione’s sex made it even more so. The First Slayer knew this, waited for this moment for thousands of years, waited for Hermione and her connection to an ancient past. Hermione’s DNA was special. They were all about find out just how special.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More warnings straight ahead... DON'T READ AT WORK...

Willow’s body felt as if it was more than an orgasm bubbling to the surface; her magic was churning, all without her intention. Her body no longer belonged to her as she responded to the physical sensation of Fleur plundering her cunt with her tongue, pausing to lap her way down, loving the salty-sweet smell, and taste of the red-head. As the tip of the Veela’s tongue circled the tight crinkle of skin of her naughty hole, even as she brought her fingers into play to pluck and squeeze Willow’s clit; there was also the visual stimulation. Fleur glowed like some kind of incandescent light; her hair flowing from an invisible wind, her skin became translucent with a tinge of pink. But the whimpers, gasps, occasional pause, along with an occasional French swear word, and little screams of pleasure she’d echoed into Willow’s cunt couldn’t diminish the erotic visual tableau of Julia gripping Fleur’s hips, while one hand thrusted into Fleur from behind. All the while the deeply flushed red-head writhed and bowed, fiery locks a contrast against the dark colord rug as the blonde Veela lapped away at her cunt. Occasionally Julia would lean over to drag her erect nipples along Fleur’s back, nibble along her neck and shoulders, or she’d lap along the whorls of Fleur’s ear.

When Julia would lean up from the Veela’s back she was a picture of pure sensuality. Her head tilted back, allowed those gorgeous dark curls fall along her neck and shoulders, her heavy breasts heaved in exertion, while the muscles of her shoulders and arms stood out in relief. She attempted to hold Fleur in place while thrusting and corkscrewing three fingers into the Veela’s tight, grasping hole. Juices spilled along her palm, down along her wrist, consistent with the sounds of wetness. The Veela was also participating; It was reaching, connecting with Willow’s Magic, the Veela’s Magic a bluish-gold, wrapped Itself around the greenish-black of Willow’s Magic. Meanwhile Julia’s hydra, Ari was also bonding to the Veela. If all three extraordinary women had the presence of mind to look up they’d have noticed the superimposed images of Fleur’s Veela form and Julia’s hydra wrapped around each other, while Willow’s greenish-black magic caressing and danced along the creature’s bodies the entities content to watch their charges complete the Claiming.

Willow’s Magic, centered low on her abdomen, began glowing underneath her skin until it hovered over that area, expanding like funnel of power and light. It caressed along Fleur’s back as she continued plunging her tongue inside of Willow’s clenching center.  It wrapped around her torso, narrowing until it funneled into the same area on Fleur’s body, causing her glowing, golden eyes to snap open. Then it flowed up along her back until it met the chocolate-bronzed skin warrioress. Her dark, wavy locks began flowing by the same invisible air. But it didn’t stop their ministrations; they were all so close, the pressure built, tension making their blood slow and thick, their magic racing in and out of their auras, their _qi_ , like some kind of mystical weave. In and out, sewing their Powers tighter together, yet building into something… _more_. Nothing mattered, they’d lost all awareness to everything else but their shared moment.

When Fleur’s tongue felt the first minute fluttering around her tongue as it massaged deep inside Willow’s clenching tunnel, it set off a chain reaction. The witch’s clit grew as firm as a pebble underneath her massaging fingers. The rush of thick fluids over Julia’s fingers, along with the involuntary tightening of the Veela’s cunt, and Julia’s own desperate grind into Fleur’s bottom, preceded the rush of excruciating sensation explosion out from all three lovers. A rush of fluids, muscles suddenly gone rigid, tightened or hardened flesh around tongue and fingers fucking, quivering clits throbbing so hotly it seemed as though the tiny organ would burst, all signaled a culmination. And like a dam of fractured magic suddenly becoming coalesced: green, blue, and purple, along with the roar of feral beasts exploded outward, causing the women to scream as the double orgasm roared through them.

At that moment, Buffy was finding it hard to get enough of Hermione’s juices which were leaking so freely that she practically had to seal her lips around her witch’s quivering hole. The Slayer could **feel** it too. She knew both of her lovers could. The Power surged and retreated, becoming bigger at every surge, like building waves breaking over a beach in a storm. Every muscle was tensed and standing out in relief as the arousal crashed through her. She was flowing like a river, ( _Faith always said she was the juiciest woman she’d ever known_ ), her juices dribbling down along her inner thighs. Her clit throbbed so much that Buffy was almost certain she could cum without touching it. The blonde Slayer loved the sensation of Hermione’s nails lightly scratching, at times, like now, digging into her scalp. Buffy noticed that she had beautiful hands, hands that would fit wonderfully snug inside her cunt. Of course, the sight of her lovers sharing deep kisses, Hermione’s other hand deeply implanted in between Faith’s muscular thighs, added to arousal. Her lovers laid side by side, bodies turned towards the other, the sounds of their moans and whimpers (and growls from Faith), were like music to Buffy’s ears. A sheen of sweat coated both of them, accentuating their skin, their muscles… their magic.

Buffy and Faith obviously don’t have the kind of magic Willow or their witch, Hermione has, but the Slayer **is** a magical creature, their bloodline steeped in mysticism and power. It was this Power that was winding itself around Hermione’s magic, like some kind of nebulous helix. The tingling in Buffy’s eyes indicated that they were glowing like Faith’s, her own were glowing icy-gold, while Faith’s were her usual orange-gold. Buffy removed her tongue from inside its snug, wet prison, moved up until her lips surrounded Hermione’s clearly throbbing and reddened clit, eliciting a harsh cry from her witch. She used a little of her Slayer strength to slightly immobilize Hermione’s juddering hips, the hardened muscle in her mouth became even firmer, the blonde Slayer moved off. Ignoring Hermione’s immediate protest, Buffy quickly made her way up her Witch’s torso, her fingers replaced her mouth; two fingers inched into her witch’s cunt, while her thumb began making swirls around Hermione’s clit. Faith’s hand joined her own to press two fingers inside Hermione’s tightening channel. Suckling in a swollen and reddened and deliciously-sensitive nipple, only to feel the fingers in her hair tighten even more and tugged her head up to meet Hermione’s swollen lips.

Meanwhile Buffy straddled Hermione’s tensed and sleekly-muscled thigh, providing relief to her throbbing nodule nestled between her own thighs. She wanted to cum with them. When she felt cautious, but insistent fingers comb through her wet curls, the blonde Slayer realized that the fingers in her hair had been removed and were now tunneling their way through her swollen folds. Needing air, their lips parted only for another pair of swollen lips to nudge their way in between them to capture Buffy’s lips once again. This time the kiss was more a battle of dominance. To Hermione it was hot.

“Merlin you two will be the death of me,” she huskily muttered.

At the moment, Hermione was loving the feeling of being inside Buffy and marveled at how soft and wet she was, how wet she made her! Plus her Slayers smelled divine and she suspected they taste equally marvelous. When her lovers finally came up for air, Faith sultrily grinned.

“But what a way to go.” She leaned over and shared a deep and torrid kiss with their witch.

Once again fingers began renewing their vigorous, deeper thrusts, swirling thumbs over reddened, pulsating muscle, wetness poured from all three women, adding the strong scent of sex and magic. Buffy lifted her mouth from Hermione’s nipple.

“More,” she begged. Her glowing eyes pleaded to her Witch. Faith licked and suckled her way up Hermione’s neck, to her ear, her teeth tugged on the earlobe, swirled her tongue around the whorls of flesh, before probing Hermione’s sensitive ear canal.

“Give her more fingers, love. She loves to be stuffed full. Don’t worry she’ll love it. Needs it even,” Faith heatedly whispered.

But the magic continued to build, all three were at the cusp, only needing a little prodding before falling over the edge, before the magic, their Bond, the _Claiming_ became permanently entwined. So when Hermione carefully edged in with three fingers, to Buffy’s groan of approval, then carefully tucked in her pinky finger, slowly corkscrewing her way inside her blond Slayer, Buffy to let out a shrill cry. Buffy’s hips churned almost violently, Hermione greedily soaked up her response, it was only the echoing cry from Faith’s lips that reminded Hermione of her other hand buried deep between Faith’s thighs, three fingers penetrating inside, barely even needing to move as Faith lifted and slammed herself down on them.

The thrum of magic began to coalesce even more. Blooming heat centered deep in Hermione’s abdomen, settling into muscle and bone, knitting torn flesh, healing deep bruises, then seeping into her the skin of her Mates, through the hands and fingers nestled deep within their womanhood, caressing their cervix, their uterus, until it too bloomed deep in their abdomen. Their Slayers now fully awake embraced It, Hermione’s magic, and like a long-lost key made for a special lock, it settled, and opened the old, ancient magic. Magic that exploded the same time the orgasms rushed over all three women, ripping mouths from skin and lips in order to release the high-pitched cry of pleasure-pain, cementing the Bonds forever. 


	30. Chapter 30

Needless to say, powerful, ancient magic that suddenly explodes outwards didn’t go unnoticed. It blew anyone nearby literally off their feet, creating invisible ripples on the air, so that even the magical stone at Hogwarts, rumbled, dirt and mortar dust falling from between the cracks to rain down on the current occupants of the famed school. Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall barely refrained from losing her balance, owing it to her Animagus heritage. But it didn’t prevent her from feeling the ancient, powerful magic zinging across her skin, making her breathe a deep sigh of relief. She watched a Death Eater, one of the odious Carrow twins run by her, cursing, knowing that Voldemort alerted the troops, as he tried to find out where such powerful magic was coming from.

Chuckling, Minerva continued onto her office. It was clear she needed to find a way to discretely leave for a couple hours, so that she could sneak back to the Order Headquarters. She imagined that six young ladies had some pressing questions. As always, Albus was right.

**

The pots and pans rattled from the places, almost striking Molly in the head as the wave of ancient magic coursed through the house. Her hair practically stood on end, as if an electric current was rumbling nearby.

Grabbing onto her wand, her other hand gripped the edge of the heavy, wooden, table. “Ooohhh! What th—“

The door to kitchen flew open as Tonks, Ginny, and Harry ran in, all of them stumbling from the magical after-shocks.  Tonks, her hair lime green, reached Molly first, trying to steady them both, while Harry held onto Ginny, and when the after-shocks dwindled away, the silence was deafening.

“Wotcher! What was that?!!!” Tonks began waving in her wand, attempting to run a basic magic diagnostics, to assess _who_ and _what_ and _where_ the magic originated from. Naturally, they all hoped it wasn’t from You-Know-Who, in fact, Molly swore it came from within the building.

“Ginny, you stay with Nymphadora,” Molly ignored the squawk of protest from Tonks who absolutely hated being called by her real name, “and Harry you come with me.”

Harry shared a look with Ginny and reluctantly followed Molly out of the kitchen, with Ginny and Tonks right behind them.

**

Sequestered in the library, Remus, Arthur, George and Ron who was busy stuffing his face with a sandwich bigger than his mouth, they had been discussing Harry’s prophecy. Well Ron not so much, except for the occasional food-stuffed warbles that had Remus and Arthur rolling their eyes. All of this fell to wayside when the magical after-shock rippled through the room, causing books to tumble off the shelves, dust peppered the air, knick-knacks fell to the floor, and other debris littered the air. When it finished, the only one who appeared really tousled was Ron, who looked as if he’d had a fight with his food and lost. Remus and Arthur were already heading towards the door, wands in hand. George was busy trying to clean up what he could with his own wand.

Ron was… Ron. “Bloody hell! Whut was that?!”

**

Fred had been busy erecting spells, bat bogeys and other pranks, hoping to startle Luna, but she simply continued writing, whipping her wand out periodically without taking her eyes off of her journal to rid whatever prank Fred whipped up.

“You might want to hold onto something.” And then a magical after-shock ripped through the room like mighty wind, rattling the necklace of Butterbeer caps, upsetting Fred from his chair which had been perched on its hind legs. When it settled, Fred lied dazed on the ground, while Luna simply shifted in her seat, her huge eyes focused on him.

“I did warn you.”

**

The discoveries happened almost simultaneously. Led by Remus and then Arthur, the smell hit them first, the scent powerful, tangy, and intimate, causing Arthur’s ears to redden first before the color spread to his face and neck. Remus paled, his scars standing out in stark relief, as he took in the tableau on the bed. Odd colorful magical dust motes danced on the air and the residual ancient magic causing goosebumps to break out along their skin.

Hermione and two strange women, all naked, were wrapped around each other like a strange triple helix. Blonde locks, thick, dark-hair, and Hermione’s lighter-brown interspersed with dark-red and brown, short curls, lay tangled along necks, shoulders, and along the bed. But was more fascinating (other than the obvious) were the bodies themselves; a shield enveloped them, and they knew without touching it that they wouldn’t be able to touch them. The two men shared a look before they quietly, but quickly left the room.

They shared an awkward silence in the hallway. Arthur cleared his throat. “Yes, well..  it appears as though Hermione is on the road to recovery.”

Remus ran a hand through his hair. “Hopefully Hermione and her… paramours will awaken to tell us exactly what this ‘recovery’ is. And soon because I don’t think the magic was contained to this building.”

**

Tonks could only stare with her jaw almost unhinged, before realizing that she had a Weasley with her. But it was too late as Ginny came through the door only to halt when faced with the same sight as Tonks. When they managed to extract their jaws from the floor, Ginny said a silent prayer of thanks that her mother wasn’t with them. Of course these reactions led to a rapidly-spreading blush and Tonks hair going through several different colors in a matter of moments.

“Man, I do **not** want to be the one that tells Bill.” And with that Ginny dragged Tonks out of the room, allowing her to wave a wand erecting a shield. Although the weird bubble-like shield that encased Fleur and her two lovers was like nothing she’d ever seen.

**

In another part of the country, a bald-headed dark wizard, who was missing a nose, grew… _worried_. The magic that singed the bottom of his robes was ancient and unknown, and clearly unafraid of his powerful dark magic. Nagini hissed, wrapping herself around his feet as she sought comfort. But Voldemort could find offer no comfort; events had not been going according to plan, even though he’d taken over the useless Ministry of Magic and that insipid Hogwarts school.

But those three ever so bothersome… children managed to destroy most of his horcruxes and even managed to escape his clutches through Bella’s incompetent handling. Next to Mr. Potter, Hermione Granger was almost as important, killing her would have broken the back of the Order and the so-called Dumbledore’s Army. Then there was this, he hefted the piece of wood aloft; Albus Dumbledore’s _Elder Wand_. He’d been unable to… effectively control it. He currently had Severus investigating why.

Now this… magical after-shock with the taste of strong, ancient… **_female_** magic, was unsettling to say the least. He’d already called on his most trusted Death Eaters and that annoying cow, Dolores Umbridge to his side for a meeting. It was time to intensify things with Mr. Potter and the Order.

****

The sonic boom that had reverberated throughout the mansion startled everyone, sending them to their feet, their wands clenched tightening in their hands as they prepared to deal with whatever problem had arrived. The burst of magic that met them, knocking them off their feet, was even more alarming.

A few moments later, Harry had managed give Molly the slip to find Ron, alone cleaning up the rest of the room from that magical outburst. They were both lamenting the fact that had Hermione been better, she certainly would have found an answer or at least an explanation for the mysterious after-shock. But things definitely hadn’t been the same.

Harry was destined, Hermione was the brains, but Ron was an essential piece that supported them when they needed him most. But it was Hermione that put it all together. And they’d forged a bond through loss, betrayal, blood, and successes. That bond became even stronger as their quest took them dangerous places, meeting unique people, overcoming insurmountable challenges, all done to save their world. But while all of them expected some changes, Hermione’s changes became more noticeable, and it caused distance between them, particularly, the distance between Ron and Hermione. If Harry had to guess, he’d been pretty certain that Hermione and Ron had been destined for each other, a year ago it would have been a sure bet.

However, for the past few months things have changed; Hermione seemed to have little to no patience for Ron, her interest in him dwindled to almost nothing beyond their battle with Voldemort.

“I don’t know mate.” Ron ran an agitated hand through his fiery locks. “It’s like, I don’t even exist anymore. I tried talking to her before she got hurt… but all she said was, ‘It’s not like it was before Ron.’” Ron shook his head before continuing. “And then she took off, ended up gettin’ hurt, and all that.”

Harry patted his shoulder in comfort. “I just think she’s goin’ through something. It’ll get better. It has to.” He paused for a moment. “Look, she’s been mad at you many times before and you know Hermione can be positively inscrutable sometimes. Just give her time.”

Ron solemnly looked at him. “Are you sure? Cause I’m not.”

He remembered the look in her eyes during their last conversation regarding the status of their cautious relationship. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen and inside; deep inside, he knew that something fundamental had changed between them. However, he was too… scared to voice these thoughts aloud. Even to Harry; saying something, sometimes makes it real.


	31. Chapter 31

A glowing Hermione sat between Buffy and Faith, along with very content Fleur who stood leaning against Julia, her hand encased in the beautiful dark woman’s, her other hand was lightly tangled in Willow’s fiery red-hair. The powerful Wiccan was sitting down, her feet curled up underneath her, her chin propped up on her palm. All the women were too… sated and content to feel sheepish about the audience that stared at them. There was something… _different_ about the six women. If the huge magical sonic boom that shuddered through the mansion, along with the sweep of invisible tingling sensation of Claiming magic, didn’t clue their audience in, then the evidence of the after-math stood before them now. It took everything inside Bill to remain in the room; between his Mum staring daggers at the women, and her attempts to fuss over him, along with the sneaking looks of pity and sympathy from the others around the room, and of course the vision of Fleur’s new mates, was more than he could stand.

He imagined Ron felt the same thing, but then his brother hadn’t made it far enough with Hermione to begin making marriage plans. If it weren’t for the fact that the impressive Power sizzling from the six women was almost enough to make his skin feel slightly sunburnt, giving  him a clue that they’d become integral to this war, he’d have already left. He caught Fleur’s eyes, which still had a hint of gold along the edges, her gaze softened, sympathy echoing out from them, letting him know that she was sorry. Sorry for what he wasn’t quite sure.

Meanwhile Ron stood, arms crossed, staring angrily at the women, particularly Hermione. Harry simply looked uncomfortable. His best friend looked… beautiful, with a languid sensuality that had him mentally squirming. Remus approached the group; incredibly a growl leaked out, from which woman wasn’t clear.

Remus held up his hand in a placating gesture. “I apologize. I know that you are newly… mated, but we need to know if this… phenomenon was felt beyond these wards.”

Tonks, whose hair was currently blue, finally got over the amazement of seeing Hermione looking _different_ ; stronger, more centered, her wounds seemingly healed. Although, that was nothing compared to what she saw earlier. Then there were her two… companions? She snuck a look over at Ron, who stood with a mighty scowl in place, arms crossed, it was clear he wasn’t pleased. Harry simply looked like he wanted to be anywhere else at the moment. But Tonks didn’t miss the look of slight concern underneath the all the disquiet.

Then there was Fleur; looking even more stunning and ethereal than ever. The smaller red-head and the stunning dark Valykrie next to Fleur, made up a fascinating tableau. Minerva looked amazingly unfazed, with a slightly awed, yet knowing look in her eyes. The elder witch was reminded of the letters sent to all the young women; complete with a hope that the prophesy, as indicated by Albus would come to fruition. The moment she laid eyes on them at the Leaky Cauldron, her own considerable magic responded to the more feral, with a hint of dark, magic, that stemmed from the women now standing before them. The hope that had been diminishing, at times forgotten, bloomed within her chest. It was a complicated prophesy; one that could have been interpreted in a dozen different ways, littered with even more ways that it could all go wrong. Minerva had felt some reservation at Albus’ penchant for manipulating lives… yet again.

But the Power thrumming from them, in particular Hermione, whom they’d all been so very worried about, had her looking more hale and hearty, even seemingly _more_ than the young woman from yesterday, whom made up the Golden Trio. Sneaking a look over at Harry and Ronald, she stifled a sigh at having to once again smooth ruffled feathers, and then explain the prophesy. She’d almost rather be causing continued difficulties for Severus and his staff of Death Eaters.

But no one could dismiss the unusual, perhaps awe-inspiring events that featured Hermione and Fleur. Remus could barely restrain himself from falling into his teacher-mode; had he had access to the Hogwarts library, or even **_Flourish and Blotts_** bookstore in Diagon Alley, he’d already be researching this phenomenon. He wished Molly wasn’t so emotionally _preoccupied_ ; there wasn’t a better witch at reading auras than her. It was moments like this one that made the loss of Sirius, or even Harry’s father, James achingly wretched. They’d know what to do within this situation, perhaps create some kind of amusement to break the excruciating awkwardness. However, judging by the looks of fond amusement from their guests’ colleagues, there might be some reprieve soon.

“All right. As much as I’d love to just bask in this mix of awkwardness and all-around fun, Wolf-Man brings up a good point.” Abernathy gestured towards Remus. “We gotta get a handle on whether or not your little magic ‘love boom’ ricocheted beyond these walls.”

As most of the Wizarding World members spent a few moments trying to decipher Abernathy’s words, while Harry tried to hide the smirk threatening to erupt, he thought he should try to clarify things for everyone. “I think what she’s trying to say is if there’s some way we can determine how powerful the spell was.”

Finally, Willow remembering a spell from her time spent with the Devonshire Coven, jumped up excitedly like an over-eager student bursting with the answer to a teacher’s question. Almost quivering in anticipation, she stood up, completely unselfconscious about the sensual aura she exuded. “I think I can do something. I just need a few ingredients and then we can find out.” She grinned. “I’ve wanted to try this spell for a while, but I’ve only used a variant spell to detect evilness. Of course this isn’t evil, it’s more like a love spell-well not really a ‘love spell’ per se—,” she blushed as a grinning Fleur laid a calming, yet possessive hand on her forearm, staving off further Willow-babble.

Fleur allowed a slight shiver to caress her skin as Julia chuckled. “I believe that zay understand, mon amour.”

Meanwhile, Xander who had sufficiently overcome a ‘Xander-drool-worthy moment’ pulled out a “technified” (compliments of Andrew’s geek squad) and magically enhanced smartphone, and dialed Council HQ. Arthur Weasley could barely restrain himself from being overcome with curiosity, lest he faced the wrath of his wife. The Weasleys were in ultra-protective mode, as fascinating as their guests were; he knew that to engage them any more than necessary would have him sleeping on the couch.

Putting the cell phone on speaker, Giles’ voice echoed out in the room, startling some of the Wizarding World's inhabitants. Arthur just wanted to know who/how a voice can come out of the object in Xander’s hand.

“Yes, it appears a good portion of our staff is in a bit of an uproar over some kind of powerful magical outburst.”

At that point a female voice chimed out, Dawn. “I guessed it had Willow’s signature all over it. So we had our Willow’s witches assess the situation.” She snickered. “You know, we sent you all over to recon, not get mated,” she added wryly.

Willow and Hermione blushed, while Buffy, Faith, and Julia simply rolled their eyes. Fleur looked serene and confident, in spite of the Weasley glares aimed in her direction.

Xander chimed in again. “Moving on. Did you get the info I sent you?” He directed his attention to the others in the room and explained that they sent along all the pertinent information regarding the current state of affairs. The report was essentially that Voldemort and his followers had taken over the government, distributing propaganda promoting their Wizarding Nazism (or else), and were rounding up Muggles, or “blood-traitors,” to have them tortured or killed.

Buffy, having finally come out of her lusty stupor, spoke. “So it sounds like this is a good time to discuss some plans of attack?”

“Well, if it were that easy, don’t you think we’d have--,” Molly’s indignation was interrupted by Arthur.

“Not now Molly. We are losing. Badly, and they may be the reinforcements we need right now.” With a look of reserved acquiescence, he nodded at Buffy to continue.

She let out a deep sigh. “Look, I can appreciate that there’s some hurt feelings here, but destiny has a way of happening whether we like it or not.” She shared a look with Faith before continuing. “Luckily we likee.”

“However, we are **good** at this stuff. Voldewart is just another big-bad in a long line of bigger bads we’ve had to put down. We’ve averted disasters, apocalypses, while saving this thankless world a dozen times over. And one thing we know: time is of essence. So get over yourselves because lives are at stake.” She stared down Ron, until he belligerently blushed, and looked away.

“She’s right. I’m sorry, Ron, Harry. Things have been… a little confusing and scary.” Her chocolate-colored eyes seemed to have more depth to them, imploring Harry and Ron to understand. “Without getting into all the details, just know that I **am** here for you. You are my best and dearest friends and we have an important task to complete.”

“Yeah, except this time, we ain’t leavin’ it up to luck and timing to protect ya. We’re goin’ on the hunt with ya.” Faith held up her hand to stave off the protests from Harry and Ron. “And it ain’t up for discussion. The Death Eaters wanna play, we’ll give em’ something to ‘play’ with.”

Suddenly a light and airy voice broke the tension. “Have you found any Blibbering Humdingers near your Council Headquarters?” This was followed by looks of sheer confusion from the Council folks, interspersed with various looks of amusement and fond exasperation from the Wizarding crew.

“Blubbering what-how-who?” offered Xander. Dawn started laughing, her musical laughter rung out from the speaker, eliciting shared smiles, and chuckles around the room.

The situation reminded Minerva of her experience with wrangling both the staff and students to stay focused. She had enough; it was time to move things forward. “Well then, shall we get down to details?”

They could hear Giles’ clearing his throat before bravely continuing on. “Yes, I believe we have some ideas we’d like to share with you.” 


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, very short chapter. But more to come.

Their plan of attack was multipronged. Giles will be running things back at Council HQ, with the intention of readying the troops to attack the Ministry of Magic, headed up by Willow, Julia, and Fleur, along with Remus, Xander, the Weasley Twins, Arthur Weasley, and a squadron of Slayers and Willow’s Witches. While Buffy, Faith, and Hermione, along Neville Longbottom, Luna, Minerva McDongall, and Dumbledore’s brother Abeforth would attack Hogwarts. However, it was understood, no matter how painful, there was a likely chance that they will be separated at some point. But hopefully it will be a brief separation, particularly if Hermione had to join Harry and Ron to complete their important task. Once Hogwarts was secured, Buffy and Faith would leave it in capable hands while they joined their Mate.

Dawn, Abernathy, Kim, Zoey, Satsu, Amanda, Rowena, Tonks, Molly and Bill Weasley would descend on Malfoy Manor. It was understood that while they’d come up with a plan of attack, the biggest uncertainty was how the prophesy involving Harry and Voldemort, would play out. Knowing what they knew about prophecies was that yes, the prophecy would happen; the question was how. 


	33. Chapter 33

Dawn snuck looks at the scowl lined on Molly Weasley’s face, while her doting husband stood next to her trying to soothe her ruffled feathers. She’d just learned that Buffy was her sister and decided that she was as persona non grata, as well. Dawn was amused – she was the liaison between the Council and world leaders, heads of major security apparatuses, has had to negotiate, coerce, and bully some fairly powerful people. Not to mention, Dawn lived with a bunch of hormonal, part-demon ridden women, and had a few apocalypses under her belt. So if Mrs. Weasley thought she was going to be put off by her grouchy disposition, the elder witch was about to be sorely disappointed. 

Besides Dawn was fascinated with Tonks’ ever-changing hair color. They had a late addition to their team: Andromeda Black, sister to Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix Black-Lestrange. Apparently, she’d been disowned by the Black family, including her sisters because she married a… Mudblood(?). What a ridiculous derogatory term. Kim had already suggested that they teach their Wizarding friends some ‘proper’ swear words before all of this was over. Dawn gave a mental snicker at the thought of Giles’ exasperated outrage over that notion. Willow and Hermione… Dawn had already coerced her sister into providing details about her new… relationship.

Of course, not all the details – she wanted to be able to mentally function without the details of her sister’s sex life causing permanent scarring. But Hermione ** _was_** absolutely adorable, she reminded Dawn of Willow a little. Both were total bookworms and loved all things knowledge. Speaking of Willow, it looked like she got the same ‘deal’ as her sister and Faith. Fleur was a gorgeous woman and very sweet. Dawn couldn’t wait to ask her about the Veela magic. Giles already wanted to do some tests on both sets of women. For now, Dawn’s group was a few meters from Malfoy Manor, preparing their equipment, their weapons, and going over last minute details before they attacked. Obviously their biggest challenges were the Black sisters, Andromeda insisted she be involved in helping to capture them.

Dawn didn’t miss the look of concern from Tonks; she’d protested her mother joining them. But Andromeda felt she had a right to confront her sisters. She was just a capable a witch as Narcissa, and she wasn’t scared of Bellatrix, regardless of her repeated vows to make her “beloved sister, the blood traitor,” pay for abandoning _them_.

“Ok, so are we agreed on the plan of attack?”

Andromeda chuckled. “I can almost ‘see’ the look of incandescent rage on Bella’s face when I simply walk up to the gate.”

“Frankly, I think you’re all off your bloody rockers, but the element of surprise will go a long way. Naturally, it would be disastrous if Voldemort was in residence, or his vile pet snake.” But Molly straightened her shoulders, readying herself for battle. These… people messed with her family, tried to kill Ron and William, she was looking forward delivering some Weasley justice.

At this point, Rowena, Willow’s Second, had finally gotten over her fascination with this legendary world. “I believe that we are ready."

The Clan minus Julia approached. Kim cocked her guns, while Zoe and Abernathy readied their own favorite weapons: Zoe’s throwing knives and Abernathy’s sais. The accompanying Slayers brought out their own weapons as well. The Wizarding crew were discomfited by the glistening, dangerous weapons. Rowena joined hands with Dawn and Andromeda, while the rest crept closer, wands at the ready.

Dawn and Rowena locked eyes with everyone. “Shall we?” And then they teleported.

 

**

At the same time Abeforth Dumbledore was leading an impressive group of people along a secret tunnel leading into Hogwarts. The energy steaming from Hermione as she took in the Death Eaters that they’d already indisposed of, permanently. Her Mates, the last Chosen Slayers -- Buffy and Faith practically singed the hairs on his body. Luna had given up on inquiring about the… creatures she could _see_ within the Slayers’ auras. They had scandalously changed into some kind of tight, sleek, leather outfits that had Neville stuttering and blushing to no end. What was remarkable was the growl that echoed out from Hermione when she caught Neville helplessly looking too long at Faith’s chest.

They had finally crept up into one of the hallways. The ‘snick’ of weapons being unleashed illustrated the almost anticipatory glee from their unique Muggle-counterparts of the likely confrontation. When two Death Eaters walked around the corner only to see the group, they were momentarily startled.

By the time they recovered it was too late. Faith spun low, swept their legs out from under them, causing their wands to fall from their hands, while Buffy pounced with her small fists. Unfortunately for the Death Eaters those fists carried unexpected power and strength; crushing one Death Eater’s jaw in before the other fist flattened the other’s nose, causing it to burst. And more importantly knocking him unconscious, instantly and brutally taking both opponents out, perhaps permanently. As more Death Eaters came around the corner, they paused in surprise. Buffy and Faith shared a look before their eyes found their witch, whose cheeks were flushed with both simmering arousal, and increasing aggression as she took in what Voldemort’s followers had done to her precious school.

 

**

 

When the large group Apparated, or as in Willow’s case teleported, into the busy lobby of the Ministry of Magic, needless to say it elicited quite a bit of panic and confusion. But by then it was too late for them to gather themselves. Willow incanted, waved her hand and the fast-approaching Death Eater-Aurors were frozen, before her Slayers were on them. Fleur was looking for two Wizards, Yaxley and Fenrir. One tried to kill Hermione, while the other did unspeakable things to her friend during her capture at Malfoy Manor. She watched as her Willow’s hair shifted from her beautiful red locks to black, while one side turned white. Her other Mate, Julia had unleashed an impressive  fiery sword, shrugging off the cloak Fleur had lent her, exposing her custom-made, somewhat scantily-clad leather outfit. Leather armbands, an intricately-designed leather bra resembling little more strips of leather cloth, crossed over to cover her… assets, complete with snug, low-cut, matching leather pants, with knee-high, steel-toe boots. Her thick, dark curls hung long and free, reminding Fleur of how that hair caressed her skin. Even more interesting was the rippling tattoo on Julia’s back that looked as if it were about to come _alive_.

More Slayers poured out, along with Willow’s witches casting wandless magic. For a moment they took in the horrible tableau of the frozen Muggles, part of a macabre artwork, supposedly a monument reminding everyone who saw it that Muggles were meant to be suppressed, if not eradicated. However, Fleur’s eyes narrowed as she took in an approaching Yaxley, MacNair, even Rodolphos LeStrange. _Perfect._ Closing her eyes momentarily, she tapped into the new Bond with her Mates, she allowed her Veela to fully become unleashed. Wishing she had an outfit similar to her Julia, or even Willow’s own leather pants and tight t-shirt, she felt her fingers shift into claws, starting the Change. The tingling in her eyes indicated that they were glowing, a growl rumbled deep in her chest as she allowed the rage to fill her. Yaxley was busy dueling with one of Willow’s witches, sending killing curses at the male witch. A male witch who was currently holding his own, before Yaxley became distracted by a Slayer who’d cleverly sent an arrow at him, which he blocked but not before another Slayer crept up on him, tackling him to the ground.

But by then Fleur had arrived. She wordlessly indicated that they leave. This was _**her**_ kill.

Yaxley clambered to his feet, an ugly sneer crossing his face, his wand clenched tightly in his hand. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Weasley’s slut.”

Fleur’s Veela became enraged, and it took all of Fleur’s concentration to not let it cloud her judgment, her need for blood, his blood.

Little did he know, that both Julia and Willow had heard the insult. But as desperately as Willow wanted to permanently curse him, she needed to concentrate on re-setting the Dark Magic that had infected this institution, so she nodded towards Julia, indicating that she should go to Fleur.

“’Ou will regret that.” She lifted a clawed hand, causing Yaxley’s eyes to bug out. “But ‘ou are mistaken. Monseiur Weasley is not my Mate.” She felt Julia reach her side, an impressive growl of her own echoing out.

At that moment Yaxley attempted to raise his wand, but Julia moved inhumanly fast, Ari was unleashed, and then he was screaming.


	34. Chapter 34

An hour later found Julia, Fleur, and Harry walking to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The two women wouldn’t be able to continue with Harry. Turning towards his two escorts. Exhaustion, fear, yet determination flickered through his eyes. “Thank you.” he paused, momentarily overcome with emotion. “Ca-can you make sure…”

Fleur stepped close to him, gently squeezing his shoulder. “Harry, this will be ze most difficult thing ‘ou have ever ‘ad to do. But know that ‘ou are not alone. Powers beyond our comprehension are watching Monsieur Potter and zhey will not let ‘ou fall.”

She was joined by her Mate, Julia. “Look I don’t know you. But I know courage and character. And you got it in spades. See the thing about prophecies is that they always happen, just not like it says in the book. It also doesn’t account for the most important thing,” she pressed her hand against his chest, above his heart, “your heart.” She clasped his shoulders, firming her gaze, straightening her shoulders. “Now go kick some ass!”

With that, Harry straightened his own shoulders, fingering his glasses, as her gripped his wand tight. He nodded and then turned around to head deeper into the forest, onto his destiny. Fleur slipped her hand into Julia’s hand, both women watching as the trees swallowed up Harry’s figure.

**

Bellatrix rarely slept and certainly not a sleep of someone whose consciousness allowed her to escape to better dreams. Often she woke sweating profusely, panting, and her body tense as the images from the nightmare tortured her subconscious. Her dark, curly hair hung lank and moist from sweat, her eyes felt stuffed full of cotton, making her feel as if she could never have enough tears. In those rare moments, she gave into the rare luxury of allowing herself, even in the privacy of her room, a hot tear or two to make tracks down her too-pale skin. During the day (and most nights) she played the crazed and raving Death Eater, but on the few occasions when she knew the Dark Lord may be busy with whatever called him away, and there were no pressing missions, or other Death Eater duties, she gave into her most lucid moments.

It wasn’t pretty. They were moments of a tortured soul that had long ago given up finding the Light. In fact, one could say she was destined towards this life. She’d been taught that to be born a Black, was to be born with blood so potent and dark, it was if she’d been born a vampire; a darkness that became a deep, dark craving. Luckily she’d been the only sister who’d inherited the full power of the _Blood-Gift_ ; Cissy only had a small amount of the _Blood-Gift/Curse_ , while it seemingly missed Andy completely. Or at least, that was what her father called it, she called it the Curse. It’d certainly been a curse as her father took liberties with her that no father should; it had been a curse when he forced her into unholy ceremonies with like-minded men, who thought nothing of what it would do to a ten-year old girl. It had certainly been a curse as he yelled _Crucio_ and other torturous spells and hexes, claiming he was “building her immunity” befitting a Black, all the while extolling the virtues of being a pureblood.

Aside from her sisters, only two people tried to save Bellatrix, but in the end it was when she’d killed her father after suffering her last indignity that she finally gave into the Dark. The fact is Bellatrix had learned to hate herself, particularly when the Dark Lord killed her child; a child she had no business bringing into her world. But it had been a surprise, probably the only pleasant surprise she’d ever received, actually it had been a **gift** , and it reminded her of what it meant to be human. Perhaps the Dark Lord knew this, knew it created fractures in the monster he’d been carefully crafting. All Bellatrix knew was that it had been the last part of her soul left untainted and that had been destroyed.

This war, her remaining family—both acknowledged and unacknowledged, pulled at Belllatrix’s conscious whenever she gave into her rare moments of lucidity. But it was during her dreams that various scenes played out, Rodolphus and Lucius torturing the Longbottoms, even as Alice looked into Bella’s eyes, her body wracked with pain, laid her hand on Bella’s wrist, and mouthed _I forgive you_. Alice Longbottom had been one of Bella’s secret friends during school at Hogwarts, while Bella carried on a brief illicit affair with none other than Lily Evans-Potter, before she hooked up with James. Both women continued to try to reach Bella. But she reacted like an injured animal that snapped at anyone who tried to reach her. They’d all had this weird bond via Bella. The Dark Lord knew this, and so he killed Lily, even as Bella begged him not to.

But her dark musings were cut off when screams sounded nearby. Grabbing her wand she _Apparated_ out of her bedroom down into the drawing room. What she saw left her stunned. Too stunned to stop the _Stupefy_ spell sent by her long-lost sister Andy, causing her to become completely immobile. Another person, wearing Muggle clothing, stepped towards her to grab her wand. She was shocked when a darker-skinned woman pointed Muggle weapons at Death Eaters Apparating inside. A small, repetitive explosions erupted from them, knocking three of her Death Eaters down, silencing two, while the remaining one clutched his side as blood poured out.

When Molly Weasley raised her wand at Bella, a Muggle woman stepped in front of her. “Stop Molly. Our witches will take care of her. For now, we need to know what she knows.” Dawn turned towards Bellatrix, ignoring Molly’s squawk of protest, but was interrupted when Narcissa and Lucius _Apparated_ into the room.

Seeing the damage, Cissy lifted her wand only to be tackled by one the Muggles, her wand flying from her hand. Lucius was simply punched in the stomach, when he bent over a knee met his face, completely taking him out. If Bella could roll her eyes in disgust she would have, however, Andy came to a stop in front of her. Bella could barely stand the familiar eyes becoming watery as they took in her sister.

“Oh Bella. Look at what you’ve become.” Andy felt her heart breaking all over again, knowing that Azkaban will most likely kill Bellatrix this time around, and if not, one of the many witches looking for pay-back against all her awful misdeeds.

Tonks stepped over towards where one of the Slayers was holding Cissy, she quickly waved her wand and said, _Stupefy_ , wondering where her cousin Draco was hiding. “Don’t hurt her. She’s… family. I’ll take care of it,” pleaded her Mother.

Molly was busy engaging in duel with Antonin Dolohov. Dawn carefully watched the interaction between the infamous Black sisters, and Andy. She decided to make an executive decision. 


	35. Chapter 35

Hours later, the night seemingly much longer than it actually was, saw everyone gathered at the gates of Hogwarts. Had Willow had the presence of mind to appreciate being on its hallowed grounds, she might have squealed. As it was, she was borderline exhausted, accompanied by a few scrapes and bruises. She could’ve used magic to heal her wounds but there were more pressing needs, like healing her lovers, and staging a coup at the Ministry of Magic. At the moment they were watching, waiting for that slimeball Voldy to show his ugly face.

She snuck a look at Buffy and Faith, who were more than likely feeling murderous because they had to let Hermione go join with Ron and Neville to find the remaining horcruxes. They were not pleased being separated from her. But they knew leading their Slayers into battle took precedence. They could see the dark-robbed crowd approaching across the bridge, led by the tall, nose-less, bald-headed, a-hole. However, next to him was a giant, bearded male named, carrying… Harry?

Julia and Fleur pushed their way through the crowd until they stood next to Buffy and Faith, hoping against hope that Harry wasn’t truly dead. The young wizard, Neville stood on the other side of Faith, battered and bruised, panting heavily, the Gryffindor Sword in hand, along with Ginny, Ron, one of the Weasely Twins, and other Order members.

“Nooo!” Ginny Weasley yelled. “Harry! Get up, Harry!” All around them tears and echoing cries of denial or grief from the crowd.

It was interrupted by the sneering laughter of Voldemort, along with the corresponding snickers from his followers. “Here is the ‘great’ Harry Potter. **This** was the best you had to offer?” he mockingly tsked. “Clearly not enough. Harry Potter is dead!” Raucous cries and shouts from his supporters met that declaration.

Hagrid slowly lowered Harry’s body, tears coursing down his hairy cheeks.

Voldemort ignored the body, as he stepped over it. “If you surrender now, I’ll spare your lives, and Hogwarts. If not… well I think you know the answer to that.” All around him his followers gleefully readied themselves to attack. For one moment, Voldemort worried about his Bella’s absence, but he became distracted by his certain victory. So for the next few minutes he gloated and mocked Dumbledore’s Army, not noticing that Harry’s body glowed, and when he raised his wand, preparing to unleash the killing curse on Neville, a voice he was certain to never hear again sounded out.

But when Neville’s eyes widened as he looked over Voldemort’s shoulder, happiness, and a fierce sense of hope began to course through his veins.

Before Neville could clue Voldemort of his change in circumstances, Buffy boldly stepped into Voldemort’s space. “Wow! You are one ugly dude?” As Voldemort started to sputter in outrage, Buffy continued. “Look, you’re about to get your ass handed to you, and I wanna personally tell you that once we turn that snake of yours into a new pair of boots for me, and when Harry finally stands over your dying, ugly-ass body, I’m gonna be there to lean over and tell you, ‘you lose, Muggles rule!’”

Buffy, Faith, Julia, and Willow desperately wanted to take down this Hitler-wanna-be-wizard. But the kill was not theirs.

An enraged Voldemort shouted, “Attack! Kill them all!” And the battle began,even as many of Tom Riddle's supporters started to bail out when they saw that the Dark Lord was unable to kill Potter.

But then he was tapped on the shoulder. Stunned surprise filled his face when he took in a resurrected Harry Potter. “This is for my parents.” And with that he unleashed a punch, hitting Voldemort in his cheek, causing him to stumble away. He held his face, as the rage and humiliation coursed through his veins. But before he could shoot a killing curse at Harry, a well-executed kick hit him in his back, landing him on his stomach. Intense pain coursed up from his lower back, he looked up to see another woman, with thick, dark hair, carrying some kind of elaborate axe. He barely had the presence of mind to hold onto his wand.

She mockingly shrugged. “Sorry I kinda can’t stand bullies.”  She looked up at Harry and grinned. “He’s all yours Pup.” With that she joined in the melee, all the while searching for her brown-haired witch.

Voldemort, meanwhile turned to his arch-nemesis, infuriated that this mere boy wasn't dead, and believed he could destroy him. Luckily Nagini was hidden away on the grounds somewhere, beyond Harry’s reach. Little did he know that the search for the rest of the horcruxes was being pursued by the smartest witch of their age. So as Voldemort and Harry exchanged curses, the hunt was on, and this time around Nagini was the prey.

Suddenly, Buffy and Faith tensed, feeling through their Bond that Hermione was in trouble. Fighting everything inside themselves, they managed to stay still, sending tendrils of energy, feral Slayer magic to their witch. It gave Hermione the power to grab Ron’s hand, sending defensive/offensive spells behind their pursuers, as they sprinted from Draco, Blaise Zabini, and Gregory Goyle through the Room of Requirements. She managed to grab one of the last remaining horcruxes: Rowena’s diadem, while Ron carried a couple Basilisk fangs. She’d already used the fangs to destroy Helga Huffenpuff’s cup, a horcrux But then that moron Goyle, never the brightest tool in the shed, began casting dark magic spells without any skill. He casted a dangerous fire spell called the Fiendfyre, it had a sentience of its own, seeking any living thing and engulfing it. Instead it killed the untrained caster, Goyle.

They managed to grab some brooms, save both Draco and Zabini, erecting water spells just in time to slip out of the Room before the fire transformed into a fire-animal. Coughing, breathing hard, Draco lifted his head, and uttered, “Thank you.”

Nodding, Hermione and Ron stumbled away. They had one more horcrux to find: Nagini, Voldemort’s snake.

 

**

The next two hours found them fighting for their life and the lives of those around them. They met up with Willow, stood on either side of her as the red-head casted. She joined Minerva and Filius Flitwick to ensure the younger children were ushered to safety, while Julia’s sword sang through the night air. Ari had been unleashed raining down blue fire onto the stumbling Giants trying to lumber through the Order’s defenses. Fleur’s wand had been busy battling various Death Eaters until she heard an explosion above Fred, Percy, and Ron Weasley. Percy dove to the side as a crumbling brick and mortar imploded, knocking the young men off their feet.

Willow raised her hands, quickly erected a shield around the Weasley men, barely saving Fred as a huge block of cement missed his head by inches, instead only grazing his temple, knocking him unconscious. The Death Eater from earlier, Yaxley, mightily wounded from Julia and Fleur’s earlier attack before he managed to escape, tried to sneak up on the Muggle red-headed Witch. He raised his wand yelling, “Avada Kerdava!”

However an unusual thing happened: a huge white bird swooped in, scooping up Willow the spell barely missing her. It circled around and then gently dropped her near, her Mate, momentarily startling Julia. She looked up, seeing it was the nebulous image of the Veela, she sent it sensations of love and appreciation, before wrapping Willow up in her arms. Letting a little space between them, Julia ran her eyes over Willow, ensuring herself that she was mostly unharmed. “You ok, sweetie?”

Willow nodded, before leaning in for a quick kiss.

Julia watched as Willow unsheathed her katana. Damn she loved it when Willow got “medieval.” “I’m not lettin’ you outta my sight. Let’s go get our Veela.”

At another part of the castle, Hermione was trying to corner Nagini, attempting to stab it with the remaining Basilisk fang, only to have it knocked out of her hand down the steps. Nagini blocked her attempts to retrieve it, almost snapping her arm off in the process. Suddenly Neville raced up the stairs, the mighty Gryffindor Sword raised high. Nagini sensing danger turned its great head towards him, but by then it was too late. With a loud yell, Neville swung hard and fast, severing the serpent’s head from the rest of its body. The ensuing scream from elsewhere, should have been chilling, instead Hermione and Neville simply shared a tired grin.

Buffy and Faith were fighting their way to their witch, littering the grounds with Death Eaters who’ve either been severely maimed or killed, their Scythes singing through the air. They too heard the scream from Voldy, which could only mean that their witch managed to destroy the last horcrux. Using their Bond like a GPS tracking device, they fought their way towards their Mate, the Slayer fully unleashed. So it was with these powerful sensory tools that they scented Fenrir at the same time.

Unfortunately they arrived too late to stop him from sinking his teeth into a young blonde-haired girl. That didn’t stop the rotating knife headed his way, sinking into his shoulder. With a yelp, he raised his bloody mouth, seeing the two women quickly closing in.

“Fenrir, Fenrir. I see you never got your rabies shot. Well no worries. Think of us as ‘animal control’ and your number is up.” Fenrir stood up, trying to use his hulking body to intimidate.

He was about to find out how unimpressed they were. Rage steadily increased in both women, as they remembered the wounds, the violation visited on their witch from this animal. Well he was about to be ‘violated’ in the worst way – he wasn’t leaving here alive. Fenrir attempted to reach out with clawed hands only to meet air. Faith went low and Buffy went high, flipped over Fenrir’s head and sliced Fenrir back open. Because their Scythes were magical, becoming what they needed, when they needed it, their weapons became silver. Fenrir screamed as the wound in his back began to smoke and burn from the silver.

Faith, sliced along his thigh, expertly missing the femoral artery in his thigh. Neither women wanted the fight to end too quickly. Meanwhile Hermione was battling the current Minister of Magic, Pius Thickenesse until she was finally able to send a spell past his defensive spells, completely immobilizing him. She hurriedly stepped around him, wanting to reach her Mates. After helping some injured friends to Poppy, she finally made her way to Buffy and Faith’s side, trying to overcome her horror at seeing Fenrir, dead, staring sightlessly, severely bloodied and battered, her Mates stood over him, panting heavily, growling.

Yet other sensations began making themselves known: fierce vengeance and satisfaction and love for her Mates. They rushed her, scooping her up in their arms, peppering kisses all over her face and neck.


	36. Conclusion Part I

Harry sat in the comfortable seating area with Buffy, Xander, Dawn, and Willow. The Scoobies had decided to take him under their wing, particularly since he decided to become an Auror. Giles stood near his desk chatting with Minerva McGonagall, the new Headmistress of Hogwarts, and Kingsley Shaklebolt, the new Minister of Magic, newly-installed recognized leaders of Britain’s Wizarding World. Andrew with a persistent Molly Weasley, stood fussing and arguing over the long table over-stuffed with food, while Julia stood nearby, rolling her eyes at his over-the-topness. Ron was busy stammering and blushing, while trying to maintain some semblance of coolness as he chatted with an amused Abernathy.

Meanwhile, Zoe and Kim were attempting to share some helpful tips on dating and sex with a highly-amused Ginny, while Fleur looked on chuckling at certain points of their informal, very funny, if slightly ill-informed discussion. They were trying to help move along Ginny and Harry’s relationship – something Ginny gave up on denying she/they needed. Hermione sat curled up in a comfortable loveseat before the huge fireplace, snuggled into a snoozing Faith, while she read a book about Slayers.

Arthur was testing the patience of one Charles Granger as he grilled him about the smartphone he mistakenly (unfortunately) brought along, while a slightly overwhelmed Emma Granger snuck looks at a flappy-skinned, floopy-eared demon named Clem, who was currently munching on Doritos. Another green-skinned demon, with small horns, red-eyes, in a purple suit, stood next to him holding an apple martini, and occasionally broke into song. She’d already fainted earlier.

Tonks stood holding her son, a gurgling a baby-boy named Teddy, as her Mother looked on. Remus was killed during the Battle at Hogwarts, Andromeda, Tonks’ father, had been lost before the battle when he was attacked in Diagon Alley, and both women needed a respite from being reminded of their lost loves. As it was, they were trying to figure out how to rebuild their severely numbered, damaged family. Andromeda shared a look with Narcissa, who was quietly taking in the proceedings. Their allies were an odd bunch, and unlike the Order, had long ago learned that things were never that black and white, and that redemption was possible for those who were worthy.

Which was why Draco stood slightly off to the side, staring into his drink, his normally perfectly-coiffed, blonde hair was slightly tousled, his skin pale and gaunt, dark circles stood out underneath his silvery eyes. Andromeda knew her sister was worried about him; she was worried about her nephew. Being forced to straddle two worlds, possibly having to witness horrific things while Voldemort and his followers took up residence at Malfoy Manor, knowing he was partly responsible for Albus Dumbledore’s death, was a heavy burden to carry. 

But he was startled out of his brooding when Zoe crept up to him. “That drink isn’t going to drink itself you know.”  When he attempted to scowl, Zoe grinned. “That isn’t going to work. But I know what’ll turn that frown upside down.”

Silence met that as his brain caught up with such informal syntax… and as he waited for her to tell him whatever it was she needed to say. Finally he reached the end of his patience, much to Zoe’s delight. “If I say ‘please tell me,’ will you go away?”

“I thought you’d never ask. Come with me.” And with she grabbed his hand and proceeded to drag him out of the room.

Narcissa started to follow them, when she was halted by her sister. “Don’t worry sister. I suspect Zoe’s about to introduce your son something called an X-Box.”

Neville stood with his arm wrapped around Luna, wearing his battle-bruises with pride, but was having little success in following the conversation between Luna’s father and a young, adorable Slayer named Kierra. The discussion centered around Muggle fairytales. Apparently, according to the Lovegoods, these stories were steeped in mystical creatures that somehow only the Lovegoods knew about.

Professor Filius Flitwick was in conversation with only one of the Weasley twins, George, Fred was still in St. Mungos due to injuries sustained during the battle. The Weasleys were indebted to Willow for saving his life. Unfortunately the same couldn’t be said for Percy Weasley. The long-lost sibling, at odds with his family, had laid in George’s arms dying from a killing curse meant to hit George, but Percy jumped in the way, saving his brother’s life.

At some point, both Minerva and Giles looked up over the room, soaking in the moment of respite, their successes, and their losses: like Severus Snape, Remus Lupin, Percy Weasley, one of the Patil twins Parvati, or Professor Trelawney, to name a few. But today was about the living, rebuilding, even redemption, with a dash of luck. 


	37. Conclusion Part II

Willow let out a huge sigh, loving the feel of her lover’s hands kneading and manipulating muscle and tendon underneath. Fleur truly did have magic hands. Her head was lying in Julia’s lap, as she gently combed her fingers through her hair. She was busy reading a book on Veela history. They were all trying to wind-down, seeking a well-deserved moment of respite. After all the administrative duties that included negotiating with the newly-elected Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shaklebolt over the Voldemort’s followers who deserved a long prison sentence or a more lasting punishment, or those who the Council believed could be redeemed, had worn Willow down. Added to this, was a visit from Fleur’s parents; they wanted to not only ensure Fleur’s well-being, but to also be introduced to their daughter’s Mates. It was virtually unheard of for a Veela, much less a quarter-Veela, whose Veela magic was diluted, to be Bonded with two Mates.

Apolline Delacour was as beautiful as her daughter. When Apolline waved her wand, assessing Fleur’s Bond and her magic, she barely held onto to her wand at what she learned. With a gasp, clutching her pearls, a look of awe on her face.

“Mon dieu! Fleur ‘our magic has been restored the power of a full-Veela. ‘Ow ‘as thiz happened?!” Tears began to slowly stream down the older blonde’s face. She slowly raised her hands, gently cupping her daughter’s face.

Fleur serenely smiled. She was remembering moments: stolen, purposeful, scary, and tender with Julia and Willow. Feeling the bubbling warmth of contentment and love flowing through their Bond, Fleur felt two warm hands fall gently on her shoulders; Willow on one side, Julia on the other. Her maman looked up at them, before leaning closer to Fleur. “Well I must say, ‘ou ‘ave wonderful taste, ma fille.”

The door opening, followed by rapid-fire questions, was Fleur’s introduction to Julia’s family.

“Jules! What the hell is goin’ on?! I gotta message about you being in some kinda war?! What the hell is that?! Why didn’t you call me?!!” John Constantine rarely showed concern for human matters, except when they involved his family and friends.

“John! That’s enough! Hello, Willow.” Willow and Julia shared a look before rolling their eyes in exasperation. Julia headed over towards her mother, hugging her, and then hugging a gruff Uncle John, who affectionately cuffed her on the shoulder. But he surprisingly pulled Willow into an unsolicited hug; after all he always did like the red-head. What he didn’t let on was that once he heard about their latest trouble, he tapped a reluctant demon, whose power was steeped in providing visions. So John got a pretty clear picture of just how hairy things had been recently.

He was just glad they all made it out. But at the moment he was interested in the other occupants in the room, particularly by the young blonde who was busy glaring daggers at him. “Ah, Jules you or Willow got somethin’ to tell us?”

Sighing, Julia braced herself to tell John and her mother about her new relationship status. “Well, I’m kinda married.”

“What?!” Julia’s mother, Angela yelped. Apolline and Fleur’s father were trying to stifle the very real urge to chuckle. Apparently their Fleur married into a very colorful family.

Willow decided to help the situation along. “Um, well, you see it started with a letter. But that letter really wasn’t the start, although some would say it was the start. Oh there was a bird – a phoenix! And the phoenix left this letter, then there is the Bond, the Bond grew, we saw a blue color, and then there was this stone. We kept getting visions, but they weren’t really visions, more like –“

“Willow!” Julia and Fleur affectionately shouted over their Bond, at the same time Fleur cupped her face to stop her words with an earthy kiss.

“John, Mother, this Fleur Delacour and our Mate.” She paused to let that sink in, “What Will was trying to say is that we’ve formed a mystical Bond, like a magical marriage. All three of us.” Stunned silence met this announcement.

At this point Apolline chimed in. sighing, “Ah, young love.”

**

Buffy and Faith snuck into the comfortable yet secure room. They stared at the woman sleeping on the dorm-room like bed. The room was a special room, specifically designed to nullify an occupant’s innate magic. During her… rehabilitation, Bellatrix LeStrange or Bellatrix Black, will have to undergo intense therapy, magical cleansing, and re-training.  She could only use magic under supervision and only during her rehabilitation sessions. In addition, she had live, breathe, and even assist Council-directed duties. These duties weren’t always predictable. Like reading famous Muggle classics to a still recovering Kierra or helping Andrew clean and prepare Council equipment used during patrol. Sometimes she was forced to accompany one of the administrative staff to go for a coffee or supply run. All of it was designed to challenge and force Bellatrix to challenge her ideas and beliefs regarding Muggles. However, none of that made a difference to the women who were making a late-night visit. 

For a few moments, it took everything inside them to suppress the need to enter that cell and introduce the infamous witch to some Muggle ‘street-justice,’ particularly as they remembered the obnoxious word carved into their witch’s skin. They also remembered the physical and emotional pain she went through that they had felt through their growing Bond during Hermione’s imprisonment at Malfoy Manor. They shared a long look with each other, before Buffy nodded, keyed in the security code near the door, allowing both women to quietly enter the room.

Faith stood staring down at Bellatrix, her fists clenching and unclenching, a muscle jumped in her cheek, as Buffy brought the only two chairs from a small table. Buffy gently clasped Faith’s forearm, hoping to calm her, otherwise it’d only rile up her own inner-Slayer when she was desperately trying to stay… cool.

“Faith, it’s ok. She can’t hurt her anymore. Remember Angel, Spike…” Buffy didn’t need to say anything more.

They finally sat in the chairs and as Faith reached over to awaken the woman, but dark eyes flew open before her hand touched Bellatrix’s shoulder. “I was wondering when you were going to make an appearance.” The Slayers watched as Bellatrix slowly sat up, tousled dark curls, skin not so translucent or as sickly as when she was first brought to them, her teeth now white and clean.

Running a hand through her mane of curls, Bellatrix braced herself for another difficult conversation. “Who is Angel or Spike?”

Instead of answering, Buffy had a question of her own. “So… you’ve been here for a month. Learn anything?”

This wasn’t a rhetorical question. For a few moments, Bellatrix simply stared at her unannounced guests before finally answering. Snorting, shaking her head, she answered. “That I’m bloody damaged. But then I suspected that already.”  She shifted until her back was resting against the wall, bringing her knees up so that she could wrap her arms around them. “Apparently so did everyone else. My wretched existence read like a how-to on becoming a monster.”

Buffy sighed. “When I came down here I had every intention on enacting some Slayer-sized justice for what you did to our witch. But…”

“You’re kinda pathetic. Like kickin’ a puppy who knows it’s been bad,” chimed in Faith.

Letting the tension and aggression eek out, the Dark Slayer leaned back in her chair, hands clasped behind her head, her legs straightened, crossing her ankles, Faith was the picture of calm. “So we had this friend… actually he was more like family. Before we met him he’d became known as the Scourge of Europe, he’d built quite the reputation for being more ruthless and cruel, more cunning, and more evil than others of his kind.”

Buffy took on the next part. “Yep, he racked up quite a body-count. Then you throw in the fact that he got his kicks outta drawing out the torturing innocent people and that totally made his day.” Buffy looked down, swallowing down the emotion threatening to well up, until Faith laid her warm palm on her thigh in support. “Until he was cursed by a gypsy. From that day on, his… demon-side was completely suppressed, his soul was restored, he was given a conscious, and he was forced to relive every evil act he committed. Naturally the happy-go-evil guy was gone and in his place was a brooding, guilt-ridden, do-gooder.”

Faith chuckled. “But with great hair. I mean you gotta appreciate that for over two hundred years you ain’t had no conscious, no soul, you were motivated purely by what pleased you, i.e. the blood and pain of others, and power. And then suddenly you’re given a complete conscious and soul make-over. So for the century you’re trying to make up for what you did by saving those that need savin’.” Faith paused, remembering the time that Angel saved her.

“But there’s a trick. The curse was designed so that Angel would never again experience a moment of true happiness. Aka, making love with the one ya love.” Buffy pointed towards herself, “at one time it was me.”

Bellatrix was captivated by this story. “What happens if he does experience true happiness?”

Buffy got up from her chair, Fatih worriedly watched her; but the blonde needed to move. She walked over towards the small bookshelf, perusing Bella’s small book collection. “Well therein lies the rub: he reverts back to his evil-doer ways. Then Angelus being Angelus would ‘play’ with his food before moving in for the kill. To those who loved and cared about him, this meant he’d more than likely find ways to hurt you. Deeply.”

Bella frowned. “Who is Angelus?”

“That was his ‘villian’ name. Angel was the friend we’d all come to love. Angel was all about redemption.” Buffy paused and this time stared for several moments into Bellatrix’s eyes; assessing, judging, before coming to a decision. She shared a look with Faith, accessing their Bond to verify. Faith minutely nodded.

“So this is your Angel opportunity: redemption or die. But we won’t allow you to hurt anyone else, ever again.” Faith could hear muffled footsteps coming towards the room; they were running out of time.

Buffy gave a tiny grin. She knew who those footsteps belonged to. “Well? What’s it gonna be?”

Bellatrix suspected this moment had been approaching; the ultimate line in the sand, knowing she’d have to face all those she’d hurt, and also knowing she’d never be accepting back into the Wizarding world. She gave a quiet chuckle of her own, ignoring the additional visitor into her room. “Do you think Andrew will teach me how to make chocolate chip cookies?”

At this point Hermione joined the conversation. “I think that can be arranged. But first I believe you have a vow to make.”

Bellatrix took in one of the Wizarding world’s Golden Trio. Feeling remorse fill her when she thought about what Lucius and Fenrir did to her, what **she** did to her. “Before I make that vow, I believe there is something I would like to say to you.”

If someone had told Hermione Granger three months ago that Bellatrix LeStrange would be pleading forgiveness, while wanting to be taught how to make chocolate chip cookies from a Muggle named Andrew, she would have told them they were completely off their rocker. But as she’d quickly learned via the War, and through her Bonded status, sometimes inexplicable things happened, especially in her world.

After all, life is stranger than fiction sometimes.


End file.
